Towards the Sun
by Foil Candle
Summary: Ford follows his brother into the nightmare realm, and now it is a race against time for him to safely get them both out alive.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is a collaborative fanfiction that I and pinesinthewoods from Tumblr have been working on for a while, and we are very excited to finally start posting! There will be a total of five chapters, which are already planned and partially written. The title comes from the song 'Towards the Sun' by Rihanna. We hope you enjoy reading as much as we enjoyed writing.

* * *

 _"Now again I found myself so far down_

 _Away from the sun that shines into the darkest place_

 _I'm so far down away from the sun again"_

 _'Away from the sun' - Three Doors Down_

* * *

Tingling; similar to the way it felt when an extremity falls asleep, except spread throughout his entire body from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. _So this is what being in the nightmare realm feels like_ , Stanford thought to himself in mild surprise. He glided upward and narrowly avoided a high-energy bloch of inky black clouds that passed just below his suspended body. He held himself still for a few more moments, wind tugging wildly at his hair and trench coat, before spotting a narrow break in the surge of black vapor and dived down into another level of swirling twilight. The clouds closed like a curtain behind him, framing the new pocket of clarity he'd entered in a billowing, opaque darkness. He held his breath as he searched the area, eyes roaming slowly and carefully in spite of the gradually increasing tempo of his heart, attempting to lock onto something else, anything else, that might be as solid and real as he was.

But he wasn't seeing- No. No, Stanley had to be somewhere around here. Stanford had jumped in almost immediately after him, which meant that he couldn't have drifted too far away. Stanford tapped his finger rapidly against his thigh in agitation and mounting impatience, eyes flickering back and forth in internal calculation. Yes, he had figured everything correctly. The location should have been right around here. But he wasn't seeing anything. Nothing. Nothing but-

Stanford's eyes widened in alarm as another current of bubbling black clouds suddenly surged from his right before he had time to dodge, and brushed up against his shoulder. The caustic vapor took off an outer layer of dust-like particles that were evaporating from his arm like a cold gale blowing away the top layer of powdery snow. He couldn't help but gasp a little as a much stronger tingling feeling, akin to a very intense bout of static shock, raced it's way up and down his right side. His left hand fumbled blindly around the folds of his jacket for a few moments before he managed to grab onto the afflicted limb and check on its condition. The soft sigh of relief that escaped his lips after finding his arm still solidly beneath him was completely swallowed up the ferocious howling of the whirlwind around him.

Really, it was odd that it didn't hurt a lot more than this. Given toxic chaos of the atmosphere that permeated the dimension he'd currently stranded himself in, he was almost certain that his chemical makeup was being irreparably degraded every second that he stayed in here. Or, in simpler terms, it was slowly killing him.

He wasn't a creature that belonged in this environment by any stretch of the imagination, not any more than an organic being belonged in a vat of hydrochloric acid, and his body simply wasn't capable of handling the strain of it. Like a sand sculpture in a fierce desert gust or a pinch of salt in a cup of boiling water, each individual particle of his now static-y human body was, bit by bit, dissolving away into the turbulent and stormy nothingness all around him. At the rate he was going now, it was likely that he would-

A blinding white flash caught Stanford's attention and temporarily interrupted his cynical musings. He finally let go of his arm and brought himself to a halt as best he could while floating nearly tractionless in the dusky sky around him. A mixture of caution and dull wonder shaped his expression as he watched thin, liquid streams of silvery light burst forth from the edge of a cloud below him and shoot upward to touch a slightly wispier collection of dark vapor above. The condensed light broke wildly upon the clouds like a splash of water onto a rock and spiderwebbed up away into the gloom beyond Stanford's vision. A high-pitched whine and the smell of burning ozone accompanied it's twisting and twirling movements.

Stanford grit his teeth nervously and let out a frustrated huff before resuming his increasingly frantic search through the near pitch-dark and nebulous stratosphere of the nightmare realm.

Thirty years ago, in a different time and as a different man, he might have been enraptured by such a strange and unearthly display, might have been tempted to study its composition or marvel at whatever function it served in this reality. But as his life was here and now, this kind of weirdness had become almost commonplace in his day to day dealings. It just… it didn't really excite him anymore. It didn't spark his interest the way it had when he was younger and the universe was still an unfathomably large and unknown entity stretching out infinitely before him. His time beyond the edge of the portal had changed him in more ways than one, and what was once an intriguing and mysterious stranger had become the noisy neighbor next door with the funny tattoos and the lazy eye. Strange, but not nearly as enchanting as it had seemed so many years ago. It was one of the reasons that he'd been so eager to take his great-nephew Dipper on as his personal apprentice once he'd become acquainted with the boy. Watching him, and the way that his eyes widened and his face lit up when encountering the supernatural or bizarre, it was like getting to relive that same childlike awe and amazement in himself all over again.

But none of that really mattered right here and now, and it still wouldn't have even if he'd been thirty years younger and less universe weary. He'd hardly come into this dimension for the sake of research or sightseeing. No, the reason he'd flung himself into the terrifying, gaping maw of the rift before it had been sealed for the rest of forever was to undertake a search and rescue mission. His current objective was finding his reckless, foolhardy, idiot of a twin brother who'd apparently seen fit to close the gateway between the nightmare realm and their world f _rom the wrong side,_ and get out of this murky hell-hole dimension as expediently as was physically possible. Hopefully with- No. Stanford amended to himself. _Definitely_ with the body of his brother in hand. Regardless of whether or not the stunt that he'd just pulled had actually gotten him killed, Stanford wasn't leaving here without him. Even if that meant that he would have to navigate through the dangers of the nightmare realm and it's unpredictable and malicious inhabitants all while lugging around a corpse.

Stanford winced in immediate regret as his traitorous imagination gave life to the morbid notion of Stanley's cool and lifeless flesh lying beneath his hand. His heart skipped a beat while nauseating chills clawed long fingers up the back of his neck, and he shook his head quickly in an attempt to dispel the unsettling sensation. It was successful in getting rid of his worry, to some degree, but doubt still stubbornly transfixed itself like a wide and slimy lump between his heart and sternum. He sighed after another few seconds and ran a shaky hand over his face in a halfhearted attempt to regain his composure.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, he really hadn't the slightest idea how he was supposed to find Stanley in all this mess. He could calculate and theorize all he wanted, but when it came right down to it, he was just too far out of his depth. He'd never been to this particular dimension before, or any quite like it, and had no real idea what laws of physics it followed, what it didn't, or if it followed any at all. Trying to set some parameters for his search had been more for the sake of his own comfort and peace of mind than out of practical application, and he knew it. But the prospects of searching through the whole of the nightmare realm as blind as a bat, not even knowing if his brother was still alive or not, had seemed… it had seemed… Well, there was no seem about it. It was pretty hopeless, wasn't it.

The howling wind blew open another gap between the clouds just in front of him, and Stanford took the opportunity to twist his body horizontally and slip between the dark, vaporous walls and into the next open space before they overlapped again. He began the routine he'd started in the all other areas he'd already checked and flew swiftly along the ever-changing edges of the pocket he was in. Carefully, he swept the area once, and then again, and then a third time just to be certain. His earlier calm and self-assurance were gradually draining away leaving his expression more desperate and frayed. Nothing. Still nothing. But it didn't…. Where could he possibly have…

"Just keep searching." He quietly admonished himself. "I'm just going to have to keep searching. I'll find him eventually."

As difficult as it was proving to be, Stanford knew that he absolutely had to maintain his calm and focus. Losing his head right now wasn't going to help him find Stanley any faster, nor bring his brother out of danger. Besides, it was a bit early to be thinking like that, wasn't it? He'd only been looking in this dimension for what he guessed to be about twenty minutes at most. Not that he could really read his watch, which was gradually degrading into the caustic atmosphere and may not have worked in this place anyways. But surely, if he had spent this long in here and was able to maintain as good a health as this, then Stanley was probably fi-… w-was probably… He was...

Then again, Stanford hadn't been the one desperately grappling with a very powerful and angry dream demon right before he'd entered the nightmare realm.

It should've been him, though. It should've been, and the fact that it wasn't made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably and his stomach twist into a knot. After all, he was the one who had summoned Bill all those years ago when he'd hit a roadblock in his research. He was the one who had all but built the doorway that had allowed the dream demon to access their world. Bill's actions and the damage he'd caused were _his_ responsibility, and the task of cleaning up that mess _should've_ rested on and _his_ shoulders alone. Stanford had spent almost every waking moment since he'd made it back home planning out a way to take down the manipulative triangle. He'd strategized, and prepared, and schemed, and set his chess pieces on the board in a way that he felt was sure to result in his absolute victory. He'd known that there would be a steep cost involved, a creature as powerful as Bill simply couldn't be taken out without immense sacrifice, but he'd convinced himself that it was a price he was fully prepared to pay. Of course he had.

Because Stanford had thought that _he_ would be the one paying it.

Not anyone else. Certainly not his own twin brother.

Stanford inwardly cursed at Stanley and his bullheaded rashness for what must have been at least the twelfth time since he'd entered the nightmare realm. His thorough gaze sifted one final time through the small pocket of cloudless air that surrounded him, and out into the gloom beyond as best he could. Upon confirming that there was nothing else in there besides himself, he let out an indignant huff. He spied out of the corner of his eye another quickly closing gap in the dark curtain of clouds and darted hastily between them.

If he was being completely honest with himself, which was something he frequently wasn't as much as he tried to avoid admitting it, he hadn't been as prepared for the whole 'Weirdmageddon' situation as he'd initially believed himself to be. He'd intended to keep the rift safe and seal it with alien adhesive, only to trip and stumble right as he'd reached the finish line causing the chaos of the nightmare realm to be unleashed. He'd attempted to take Bill out of the equation before he could cause too much damage, only to fail, end up captured, and be transformed into a golden knickknack to satisfy the dream demon's perverse sense of humor. He'd readied himself to take on Bill once more after he'd been rescued by Dipper, Mabel, Stanley, and a the rest of the ragtag crew that they'd pulled together, only to have that far too smug triangle remind him of the deal he'd so foolishly made in his youth and hold it against him at the worst possible moment. 'From now until the end of time' indeed.

He hadn't gotten a choice in the matter. The contract that he'd made with Bill was absolutely binding, and could only be broken or altered if the demon wished it to be. Stanford was going to be forced to work for the enemy. He was going to be given a portion of Bill's power, transformed into one of his minions, and made to fight and annihilate the very friends and family who had come to his aid. Just like that, he had been doomed to once again bring destruction to the world that he'd struggled so desperately to preserve. It was a moment that could've easily topped his list of worst moments of his life. Stanford had been humiliated. He'd felt outraged, horrified, ashamed, and above all, deeply, unrelentingly guilty.

But to everyone's complete surprise, even Bill's if Stanford had read the demon's rather limited range of expression correctly, Stanley had decided to take the opportunity to speak up and had volunteered to take his brother's place on Bill's side. The demon had let out a howl of grating, incredulous laughter at this before offering a nonchalant " _Yeah, sure. That would make things a bit more interesting, wouldn't it"_ and holding out a fiery blue hand to seal the deal.

 _"Stanley, are you insane! You're asking him to make you into his puppet! What on earth would make you think this is in any shape or form, a good idea!?"_

 _"Can it, Poindexter! I know what I'm doin', so why don't you have a little faith in me, eh? You yourself have gone on and on about you've studied Bill for_ sooo _long and know all about his weaknesses and whatever better than anyone else. The way I see it, you're our best shot at bringing him down. Right?"_

 _"W-well I… Yes, that's correct.."_

 _"See. Then we can't afford to lose ya, can we. As satisfying as it would probably be, we're not going to win this battle with a left hook, and I'm hardly the only person on our team who can pack a punch anyways. I'm more expendable than you, so it makes sense for me to take the hit here instead. "_

It was only now that Stanford was beginning to appreciate how skilled his brother had become in the fine art of conning. After all, the ever overconfident and flippant Bill Cipher hadn't been the only one who his brother had managed to hide his true intentions from.

Stanley had been floated up to Bill in order to reach out and take the demon's hand, and as he'd grasped it his body had become outlined in a glowing orange energy that signaled Bill as transferring some of his power to him. It was in that moment, still holding tightly onto the burning hand to keep the deal from fully completing and to allow him to further draw energy from Bill, that Stanley had once again thrown everyone for a loop. Using Bill's own power against him, (and some other power that seemed to be emanating from the glowing spot on his right shoulder perhaps?) he'd raised his other hand skyward and quickly tethered the edges of the rift above to a series of fine glowing threads spread out from the tips of his fingers. Bill, and everyone else for that matter, had only just enough time to piece together what was going on before the tear in the dimensional planes began sucking up everything and everyone that didn't belong in their world like a giant vacuum or weirdness magnet. The strength of the rift's pull was strong enough that Stanford had been forced to duck to avoid getting hit by a flock of flying eyeballs as they were being drawn upward and into the glowing orange gateway.

Bill's absolutely enraged expression upon realizing that he'd been tricked had been a terrifying sight to behold, even from the distance that Stanford was at, but Stanley didn't give the demon the time to react accordingly. His brother had grabbed at Bill's triangular body and launched both himself and his unwilling companion deep into the darkness of the rift. And as they were swallowed by the hazy murk of the nightmare realm, Stanley had looked down, and he and Stanford and locked eyes for a few brief moments. There had been a sad smile on his face, tired and worn, one that had seemed to say 'See ya, Sixer', and Stanford could do little more than watch as his brother had reached down and begun to seal the rift in bright orange stitches behind them.

 _'No.'_ Had been the half panicked and overwhelming thought ringing throughout his skull in those last few seconds. _'H-he can't. He can't! That idiot! This was my mistake, my responsibility! He ca-W-why would he- No. I won't let him do this to himself. No!'_

For the first time in his life, Stanford Pines had acted without truly thinking about what he was doing beforehand. Heedless of the danger, blatantly ignoring the consequences that his actions might have, discarding the cries of his companions, he used the still fluctuating gravity to push himself upward and towards the entrance of the rift. The tip of his boot had just barely scraped itself in before the bright glowing energy sealed up the tear beneath it, and just like that, Stanford had been stranded in the middle of a dark, dangerous, twilight gloom.

The cloud he'd found himself in had been so thick that he'd barely been able to see his own hand in front of him, and neither Stanley, nor Bill, nor any of the other inhabitants of the nightmare realm had appeared to be within his immediate vicinity, or even the area beyond that. At the time, Stanford could only assume that they'd all been sucked deeper into the dimension. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he had wrapped his trench coat a little tighter around his chest and dove down into the turbulent black hurricane that he presumed his twin to be lost inside.

But so far, his search hadn't yielded much in the way of results. Stanford's hands curled into tense fists as he finished looking around. Yet another area between the swirling black clouds proved to be completely empty of any living thing save for himself.

If _only_ Stanley had told him what he'd actually been planning from the start! They could have easily worked something out together and taken Bill down without getting into a mess like this. But _no_. No, instead of relying on and trusting his brother to help him, he'd tried to handle everything by himself, and as consequence had ended up getting stuck in a completely unnecessary and stupid situation. What could have _possibly_ made him think that tossing his life around recklessly like that would be the best course of action for the…

Stanford's train of thought trailed off in mild irritation, the irony of his criticism not lost on him.

A bright silver light flashed in the darkness to his right as liquid lightning branched quickly upwards and splashed onto the dense vapor above. The cold glow from the high energy fluid harshly lit half of the troubled scowl that marred Stanford's particle-y, dissolving face.

Stanley could be dying; dead, for all that he knew. He didn't have any time to waste searching the entirety of this dimension's seemingly infinite sky! Not when every second that he and his brother stayed trapped here slowly wore them down to their base organic chemicals. Not when Bill and his goons could be floating just beyond any dark wall of vapor, waiting to find and take revenge on them for the part they'd played in thwarting this dimensions invasion of their world. He wasn't going to accept that he'd probably just thrown his life away for nothing jumping in after his twin. He wasn't going to stop searching till he found-

As though in response to the frantic determination of his thoughts, the floor of billowing black clouds beneath him suddenly dropped away under a forceful burst of unrelenting wind. In the gap that was created by the absence of the dark haze, something unmistakably solid caught Stanford's eye. _Someone_ unmistakably out of place in this world.

"Stanley!?" Almost without being consciously aware of his own movements Stanford immediately shot downward into the pocket of sky just below his, traveling so swiftly that his own degrading static trailed out behind him like the long tail of a comet. But Stanley didn't respond to his brother's call. Taking care to slow his approach as he got closer, Stanford pulled himself up next to the body suspended and floating limply along the current of the wind.

His twin wasn't looking good. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Stanley's eyes were closed, his face peacefully blank either in unconsciousness or… or otherwise. As awfully as Stanford's own disintegration had progressed, his brother seemed to be even further along.

Stanford examined him more closely, and then furrowed his brow, completely perplexed. A large fuzzy Y shape had begun to crack near the center of Stanley's chest. Between the cracks, an orange fiery glow emanated from within him, as if the inside of his body housed an inferno.

Stanford found himself increasingly reluctant to try and touch or move his brother at all, afraid that if he did so then Stanley might just start falling apart at the seams. But he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. If he was going to get the two of them out of the aptly named nightmare realm without getting caught by any of its other residents, then they were going to have to partake in quite a lot of rapid, jarring motions.

"Stanley. Stanley!" Stanford grabbed his brother's shoulders and shook him tentatively, hoping that the gentle movement would be enough to wake him. "Stanley, please wake up. Stanley! Come on, we have to get out of here!"

The fierce wind tugged at and twirled Stanley's clothes and hair, causing them to dance around wildly in the air. But the rest of him remained still and lifeless below his twins slightly trembling hands.

Stanford took in a shaky breath and attempted to gather what shreds remained of his waning courage to face whatever truth he was about to discover about his brother's current hold on life. Fingers twitching in dread, he reached out to Stanley's neck to feel for a pulse there, before thinking better of it and drawing his hand back to his side. With every part of him being as tingly as it was, trying to feel out anything so slight as the flow of pumping blood underneath dissolving skin would be incredibly difficult. So doing his best to avoid the crack while still situating himself close enough to the heart, Stanford placed his head down onto his brother's chest and began listening for faint beating.

"Come on Stanley." He whispered hoarsely. "I know you're tougher than this. Come on, come on…."

For a few breathless moments, Stanford couldn't hear anything at all, save for the deafening roar of the windstorm whipping all around him. As the seconds ticked by, doubt began to sink its ragged talons into the back of his lungs as though it was a terribly heavy bird that had perched itself upon his shoulders, and he could almost feel it staring down upon him in a grim foreboding. Stanford closed his eyes and shook it off as best he could, before pressing his ear even further down into his brother's unsettlingly cool chest.

Gradually, the tense slope of his brows lessened, and a relieved smile began to stretch its way onto his face. "Ha! I knew… I-I knew… Oh, you knucklehead. If you ever scare me like that again I swear I'll never forgive you." He choked out in a breathy, almost hysterical laugh.

He'd heard it! Weak and a bit rapid perhaps, but undoubtedly there. He was alive! Stanley was still alive! Somehow, he'd found him in time.

Stanford's shoulders sagged in half exhaustion, half release, as he drew himself up again; adrenalin slowly draining away from his body now that the worst of his fears had been alleviated. But as soon as he took a good look at what was waiting patiently up in front of him, he froze so abruptly that he might as well have been dunked into pure liquid nitrogen. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one who was searching for his brother.

"Weeeeell, weeeeeell, weeeeeell, what do we have here?" Bill's voice cooed slowly in the dim twilight, dragging out each syllable of each word as though the mere implication of Stanford and his brother left him absolutely repulsed. His single glowing eye burned blood red in the midnight haze of the clouds before they parted obediently in front him and revealed the rest of his crimson tinted shape. A long black pupil sunk down to gaze at the twins in a highly focused loathing. Bill twirled his cane around with an ominous and threatening energy akin to a viper coiling in on itself in preparation for a strike.

"So you followed your brother into the rift, huh. Don't tell me you just did that because you thought it would be fitting for the two of you to die together. To be frank, that's not nearly as touching as it is pathetic."

Unlike he and his brother, Bill's own form seemed completely put together and unaffected by the caustic atmosphere, and Stanford's stomach did a little flip as he took note of this. It wasn't too surprising seeing as this was his home dimension, but it definitely added unnecessary weight to what was already shaping up to be a very one-sided fight; a fight that Stanford was beginning to realize he wouldn't have an even remotely realistic chance of winning.

The furious scarlet glow that had overtaken Bill's form dimmed only slightly to a more sneering yellow as he observed the pair of humans before him; obviously taking no small amount of pleasure in Stanley's unmoving body and the wide-eyed hatred and fear that had plastered itself onto Stanford's face. His single eye leisurely trailed downward, and the nervous tightening of Stanford's white-knuckled grip on his brother's suit jacket caused the demon to offer him a smug, condescending glare.

"Though... I suppose it'd make sense that you'd want to be here to punish yourself seeing as, once _again_ , it was ultimately that poor sack of flesh you're clinging onto who's had to pay the price to fix your mistakes. First the portal, and now this. You like to pretend that you're some big hero Sixer, but it's your brother who's always cleaning up after your messes."

Cruel, deliberate, mocking laughter rang out from the triangular demon, and, like his speech, it somehow maintained perfect audible clarity in spite of the terrible din created by the cyclone whirling throughout the rest of the sky. Ford grit his teeth slightly as the harsh sting of Bill's words sunk into his mind, causing his pride to flinch and guilt to flare up unbearably. This was the absolute last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

Readjusting his hold on his brother so he could grip him more protectively, Stanford began to slowly inch himself away from the dream demon. His intention had been to give himself a little leeway for when he found an opportunity to escape, but as his luck today seemed determined to have it, Bill had noticed the subtle movement. A wide eye-grin ripped itself across his yellowing body at the sight of Stanford's retreating form.

"Oh wait, are you _actually_ here because you've been taken in by some idiotic notion that you'll be able to save him and make it out of here alive?! Pfft." Bill shook slightly as he attempted, and purposely failed, to contain another round of ear-grating laughter. He continued on for a rather tasteless amount of time before waving a dismissive hand in Stanford's general direction and fixing him with what was probably meant to be a disappointed look. "Oh wow Sixer, I honestly didn't peg you to be _that_ stupid. Easily manipulated yeah, but not a hopeless fool! Honestly, that's more your brother's area of expertise."

"Yes, well I suppose that 'hopeless fool' did manage to outsmart you, didn't he." Stanford barked back cooly as he offered Bill a mocking raise of his brow.

Stupid as it probably was to provoke Bill back into outrage, Stanford found that he couldn't really resist taking a shot at the creature's overblown ego. After everything he'd gone through because of that arrogant dream demon, watching him flare to red again as he knocked him back down a size was about as satisfying flicking away an incredibly irritating insect. At the comment, Bill suddenly stilled as though physically held in place by the sheer intensity of his outrage; the cheeky expression that had worked its way onto his eye suddenly morphing itself into something more dark and sinister.

"Boy Sixer, you seem _awfully_ snarky for someone who's sitting helplessly in the palm of their enemy's hand," Bill ground out lowely.

He drew his arms in sharply to grip at the top of his cane, and the heat of the anger that sparked itself up in that lone eye was so potent that Stanford could almost feel it radiating all the way out to where he was floating. "Besides, that little stunt you meatbags pulled only worked due to sheer dumb luck; not because you're anything special. If you hadn't ended up branding him with that symbol all those years ago…" Bill trailed off, tapping a finger against his cane in an almost pensive irritation. "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter _how_ he managed it either way seeing as he, and you, are both going to end up paying for it with your. Miserable. Little. Lives."

Seeming to be satisfied with the defensive grimace on Stanford's face and the few inches he had backed up again, Bill changed gears and refocused the conversation. "Now, getting back to your obviously doomed escape attempt… Well, I _could_ spend a few hours listing out all of the thousands of reasons that whatever plan you're concocting in that little fleshy brain of yours will never work out, but I think that the degree that you and your brother have managed to piss off myself and my colleagues actually speaks pretty well for itself."

As though responding to Bill's command, a few especially intense splashes of liquid lightning suddenly flooded up from the darkness below. In a series of near-blinding flashes, the clouds above, beneath, and all around them were illuminated in a glowing, silvery sheen. Stanford could make out at least thirty pitch-black silhouettes of various size and shape that appeared in stark contrast to the brightly lit clouds. Stanford's blood ran ice cold as he realized exactly what those shadows represented. The terrifying silhouettes of the other residents of the nightmare realm revealed themselves for only a few brief seconds as the light flickered in and out, before disappearing back into the inky gloom. But now that Stanford was aware of their presence, he could still feel the spectral weight of all their malevolent fury and animosity bearing down upon him from the deep darkness of the storm behind Bill, regardless of whether or not they were visible.

"Yeah… it's just not gonna happen, Stanford. Not in a million years."

Stanford didn't bother wasting any more time waiting for an opportunity to escape. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he quickly gathered his brother's body up in his arms so that he could carry it bridal style, and immediately made a break for it into the bubbling black clouds behind him. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that the monsters of the nightmare realm were now tailing after him in hot pursuit. He could hear their various shrieks of laughter and howls of rage resounding throughout the darkness to either side of him, driving him relentlessly forward.

Unlike when he'd been searching before, Stanford couldn't spare any time now to worry about avoiding the dark storm clouds. Instead of waiting for opportune breaks within the nebulous partitions and carefully weaving around them, he poured all of his focus and energy purely into speed. His body blasted through wall after wall of haze in a desperate and wild abandon. The intense air pressure caused by the force of his acceleration made it almost impossible for him to catch his breath. But it didn't matter. Nothing as trivial as that mattered anymore. Careful didn't matter, and neither did direction really.

He and his twin were outnumbered more than fifteen to one, injured, exhausted, unconscious in Stanley's case, and completely out of their element. If they were caught by Bill and his goons now, Stanford knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would be a death sentence for both of them. And most likely, not a mercifully swift one. Knowing Bill, he would draw out their painful demise as long as he could. Only one panicked, and almost berserk phrase echoed itself over and over again within his skull.

' _Get away! Get away! Get away!'_

A long dark claw suddenly shot out of the haze above Stanford without warning, its scaly fingers scraped through his hair as he just barely managed to duck out of the creature's reach. Before he even had time to curse in surprise at the narrow miss, something else that was giggling dementedly in the dim murkiness darted out right in front of him. He nearly lost his grip on his brother's body as he was forced to quickly jerk himself vertically downward in order to avoid hitting it, and the trajectory of the rapid motion sent him careening wildly through several banks of billowing black clouds.

For a few terrifying seconds, Stanford couldn't regain his sense of balance and fell into a dizzying tailspin through the stratosphere. He tumbled in a free fall, down, down, down; his hold in his brother tightening to the point that he thought he was probably leaving bruises.

In between the blurring twilight that accompanied his plunge he caught sight of a member of Bills troup. The one that was engulfed in glowing magenta flames, flying upside down, mockingly abreast himself and his twin. Stanford's heart leapt into his throat as the corner of the creature's mouth curved into a venomous grin, its leering eye locked onto him. It let out a cackling, cruel laugh and taunted him with the delight of a child on a playground.

 _Stanford Pines, Stanford Pines_

 _The puppet freak who lost his mind_

It stretched out its burning arm to seize hold of his own. Twisting the muscles in his back, Stanford abruptly reoriented his body mid-air and kicked off from the demon's collar as it approached him. His boot smashed into its target hard enough to leave an imprint, and the rose-colored cyclops gave an indignant shriek as it was forced away. Stanford was launched sideways by the momentum of his action into a thick patch of extremely opaque clouds.

Still reeling and disoriented, Stanford hung suspended in the pitch darkness while he gathered his bearings and caught his breath. He hoped desperately that the rest of Bill's colleagues hadn't seen where he'd ended up landing. Muscles tense and strained, body shuddering slightly from the intense tingling that was now overcoming it from being within the toxic vapor, he waited a long moment for something to suddenly burst forth through the gloom. And then he waited for another moment. And then another. The heavy panting and rapid rising and falling of his chest gradually lessened as uneventful second after uneventful second ticked by uninterrupted. Stanford's shoulders started to relax a little.

Nothing had apparently followed him in there. It seemed that for a little while he might actually be able to hide. The thick vapor of the cloud he was in muffled the sound of the windstorm outside, but he could still hear furious yowls of his pursuers, mingled with wild shrieks of laughter. It sounded like the other demons had taken up the cyclops demon's chant and were now adding their own lyrics.

 _The golden boy with special hands_

 _Gladly helped Bill with his plans_

From what he could tell they were searching for him a little further below and above, pinning him in the middle. Of course, noise wasn't really much to go by when everyone could glide around the sky in almost absolute silence, but he figured that this might at least give him a bit of warning if any of them got too close.

Stanford let out a shaky breath, absentmindedly slipping his arm out from beneath his brother's legs to wipe away the sweat that had beaded onto his own forehead during the harrowing chase. Now that he had some time to think, it was beginning to finally dawn on him just how desperate his current situation truly was.

When he'd been forced to watch his brother seal the rift behind him earlier and disappear into the nightmare realm for what Stanford had feared might be forever, he hadn't acted on logic or reason, hadn't formed a plan beforehand, hadn't even really thought through the details for how he intended to get out of the mess he intended to follow his brother into. He'd just… acted. He'd been driven on by the force of his emotions, his desire to protect his brother, and without considering the consequences he had acted. In short, he'd pulled a 'Stanley'; and unfortunately for both of them he didn't really possess his brother's wealth of experience in 'just winging it'.

Stanford excelled at chess, not poker. He was the sort of person who preferred to wait and allow himself to observe any given problem before attempting to tackle it, rather than taking a wild gamble and just hoping that everything would work itself out in the end. The speed at which the dimensional tear had been closing, however, had made his usual patience an ineffective virtue. Sure, he'd managed to form a vague notion of finding his brother, rescuing him, and escaping from the nightmare realm together; but the very important 'hows' and 'wheres' of the plan had gotten lost in all of the excitement. As things were currently, he didn't really have any idea of what he needed to do to get the two of them out of there.

There was a way to do it; he was sure of that much at least. After all, even while the rift was still closed Bill had been able to gain some minimal access to their world for thousands of years through the use of the mindscape. More than three decades ago when he'd been researching the subject, Stanford had discovered that the mindscape was a sort of world between worlds, a bridge that connected the nightmare realm to their dimension. Though it hadn't ended up being a bridge that Bill or any of his fellow cohorts had ever been able to fully cross, he hoped that it might be a different case for him and his brother. They were only trying to re-enter into a world that they already belonged to, weren't they? Surely, he thought, that should allow them to succeed where the other residents of the nightmare realm had failed.

Stanford let out a tired grunt as he readjusted his grip on his brother into something a little more secure again. There was a lot more open-ended guessing involved in his 'plan', and that was a term he used rather loosely, than he would have liked; a lot of 'ifs' and 'maybes' that made his stomach flip around uncomfortably. To start off, Stanford hadn't the faintest idea of what the entrance to the mindscape might look like on this side of the rift, and neither did he know where, or how, he would be able to locate it. Finding the mindscape in their world was as easy as just falling asleep; but even assuming that it worked the same way here, which he highly doubted it did as the creatures from this dimension didn't seem to sleep, his present circumstances were far too dangerous for him to simply curl up and take a mid-air cat nap.

"Where are yooooouu?" As though determined to prove this point true, Bill's loud and almost synthesized voice called out menacingly from somewhere just above the cloud Stanford was hiding within.

"Come out, come out, Siiixer. We promise we'll be- Well, no. Never mind. We're not going to be gentle at all; but hey, why not come out anyways and save us all some trouble. I've been forced to endure a really long and frustrating day, and _someone_ needs to pay for that. You two are going to end up dead one way or another, so you might as well do yourselves both a favor and get this over with quickly."

A period of tense silence followed the threat, and Stanford only barely managed to stifle an alarmed gasp as the wisps of blackened vapor around him started parting away at Bill's command. Holding his breath and praying that the dream demon hadn't spotted him already, he carefully slipped himself and his brother deeper into one of the halves of the now splitting cloud bank. He couldn't see much of anything through the thick gloom, but Stanford thought that he was almost able to make out a faint red glow blaring out in the darkness a mere six feet over his head.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER!" Bill's voice bellowed out in a deep base wave, loud enough to cause the particles evaporating off from the two brothers to tremble from the force of it. The soft red light filtering down from above flickered slightly as though the triangle body it belonged to was turning back and forth to search for them. Agonizing second after agonizing second dragged on for what felt like hours to Stanford, and it took every teeth grinding ounce of his self-control not to try to make another break for it when he thought the demon might be turned away. Finally, after seeming to find nothing in the mist, Bill flew onward, and the crimson illumination emanating from his enraged form faded back into darkness.

Stanford waited another moment or two to be sure that Bill wasn't going to suddenly turn around come back before lowering his guard again. Sighing in half frustration, half relief, he let his gaze trail down to the unconscious man in his arms and offered him an apologetic grimace.

"Still holding up alright?" He asked in a quiet murmur.

Stanley didn't answer back save for his bowtie loosely waving to and fro in the current of the breeze. Stanford grimaced at the sight of the strangely glowing hairline fracture on his brother's chest. He wasn't sure, but it looked like it had grown larger. He hoped that he was wrong.

"Just... hold on a little longer. I promise you I'm going to get us out of here." Stanford vowed a little hesitantly, unable to fully keep doubt from seeping its way into his voice. "I'm… I'm almost certain that the entrance into the mindscape from this dimension is going to be a physical one rather than a mental one. I just don't really have any idea where I should start looking for it."

Several thin strands of liquid energy flowed lithely between the wisps of midnight mist surrounding the pair and began gathering themselves up like small streams converging into a larger river. The silver light radiating from the suspended branching network flickered and danced across the slightly cracked lenses of Stanley's glasses. His face remained blank and impassive, offering nothing in the way of either assurance or objection.

"I suppose... if I went by some of my previous 'experiences' with gateways into alternate realities, I would guess it to be situated somewhere back near the rift." Stanford continued on somewhat more to himself now, brows furrowing thoughtfully. "Namely, where the boundaries that separate the worlds from each other are thin and at their weakest. The best course of action for us would probably be to start our search off there, and if we can't find it near that location then…" Stanford trailed off for a moment, the grasp he had on his brother's shoulder tightening almost unconsciously. "Well, that is… unless you maybe want to wake up and offer a better suggestion."

Once again, Stanford was answered only by silence.

"Hm. I never thought there'd come a day where I'd want you to start arguing with me."

Pushing himself up to the outer edge of the stormcloud, Stanford tentatively risked peeking out into the rest of the sky beyond to get his bearings. He'd been expecting to just see more of the same savage hurricane that appeared to be a defining feature of the dimension, or even one of Bill's cohorts if he was especially unlucky, but what he found himself actually looking at instead was quite different.

Just beyond the thin veil of vapor in front of him lay a cylinder of crystal clear emptiness so vast and tall that Stanford ended up straining his neck slightly while trying to take in its entirety. From what he was able to make out it seemed to stretch all the way from the giant glowing orange X of the closed rift high up above them, down to what he could only assume to be the dark ground far, far below. This, he figured, must have been the eye of the storm.

At the very least, the unobscured view provided by the column eliminated the difficulty of finding the rift again in the wild tempest, and Stanford allowed himself a slightly sarcastic smile as he mentally crossed that task off from the depressingly long list of problems he was currently dealing with. Cautiously easing his head out from the clouds a little more, he attempted to get an estimate of the distance he was going to have to traverse while remaining undetected; and, upon doing so, instantly found himself doing a double-take.

"W-what the…" Stanford's right eyebrow crawled its way into his hairline as he stared on, completely baffled.

The rift above him was… Well, to put it simply; it wasn't above him, and it wasn't the rift. It had been hard to make out before in the bad lighting, but now that he was really focusing in on the area Stanford noticed that it possessed a different shade, stability, and texture than the rest of the atmosphere in the dimension. That, he realized after more than a minute of bewildered gawking, was the ground that he was gazing 'up' upon. Turning his head 'downward' only confirmed that suspicion as he found himself looking at yet another shining orange cross-section and the seemingly bottomless well of starless sky beyond it. Apparently, he hadn't quite righted himself correctly after he'd managed to escape from his earlier tailspin and had been floating around upside down ever since.

But there was another very important conundrum that was raised by all of this, and that, more than his slight confusion with his orientation in space, was what had truly caught his attention. If he and his brother had entered in through the rift currently situated 'below' them, then what exactly was the bright orange X that he was looking 'up' at right now?

A chilling screech tore sharply along the wind as one of Bill's companions streaked out across the open eye of the storm a fair distance 'below' Stanford's relative position. After confirming that the creature hadn't caught sight of him, Stanford let his eyes trail back 'up' to the ground and got somewhat of an answer to his question. The image of a large bulbous body shooting quickly across the curricular gap in the clouds was reflected identically in the ground 'up above' him. He nearly bit his tongue as an idea suddenly struck him like a hard slap.

What Stanford was actually looking at, was an enormous mirror, reflecting the rift above of it.

Was it possible that this could be the entrance into the mindscape? In their dimension, the mindscape was a collection of the thoughts, emotions, and memories that defined each consciousness that entered into it. It wasn't an actual representation of the individual themselves, otherwise they wouldn't be able to explore and exist separately within it, but more a _reflection_ of their personal reality. So then, what better form could a physical gateway into the mindscape take than that of a polished mirror?

At any rate, he certainly didn't have any better ideas for what the entrance into the mindscape might look like; and given the speed at which he and his brother were dissolving away into the atmosphere, he wasn't going to get a whole lot more time to waste searching around for it either.

After taking a moment to twist around and reorient himself so that the terrain was once more comfortably situated somewhere down below his feet instead of his head, Stanford began to sink back slightly into the cover provided by the dark cloudbank behind him. Not wanting to risk being spotted by something, he'd intended to cautiously work his way to the ground by traveling just outside the parameter of the storm's exposed center in order to keep himself hidden.

Unfortunately for him, lady luck appeared to be in a very fickle mood today, and just before he'd retreated completely into the gloom one of Bill's lankier companions darted out into the clear space only a few yards in front of him. His small motion ended up catching the creature's attention almost immediately; the two eight-balls that had been roaming around lazily in its sockets while it had searched futilely before now swiveled wildly as they fixed themselves on his exact location. Stanford's own eyes locked with a pair twisting black eight's, and his blood ran ice cold.

A deep bellow rang out from the entity in some alien language that Stanford wasn't yet familiar with as it pointed a long clawed finger in his direction, the volume booming enough to be heard throughout the hurricane and above the roar of the wind. Like ravenous wolves slinking from the edges of a dense, dark forest, the various creatures of the nightmare realm started melting out of the black clouds and into the halcyon center of the tempest. Bill was the most bright and vivid among them, the glow of his triangular body blazing out as intensely as a blood-red supergiant star in the surrounding blackness.

"We fooooound you!" Bill mocked from far up above, and even with the demon being too distant for Stanford to really identify the expression in his eye he could still clearly make out the sneering confidence of his voice.

Well, he thought wryly to himself, there went the stealthy approach right out the window.

Clenching his teeth and taking in a large breath, Stanford shot out like a bullet from the writhing black haze he and his brother had previously been concealed within and into the clear eye of the storm. The escape was so sudden that it stretched the nebulous wisps of clouds so that they trailed just behind the pair, curling possessively around the particles they left in their wake as though reluctant to release them from its grasp. Their adversaries, not even hesitating a moment out of surprise, followed swiftly behind them. Stanford's heart was bouncing off his ribcage like a tennis ball as he tore savagely downward in a near-blind plummet towards the gleaming dark mirror below. He could only hope desperately that what he was gunning for actually was the entrance to the mindscape, and that he and Stanley would be quick enough to make it through before they were caught.

The wind streaking up past him as he descended was so mercilessly chilling and powerful that the malicious jeers and furious shouts of the creatures pursuing him were faint and only barely audible over the high-pitched whistling of air whipping past his ears.

"Where do you think you're going anyways, Sixer? Stanford turned his head, just able to make out Bill's taunting voice howling sinisterly from somewhere out over to his left. "There's no escape and you know it!"

Without warning, Stanford's head jolted back in whiplash as his flight was suddenly interrupted. His knee nearly popped out of its joint by the violent force of the stop, and he couldn't help but let out a sharp cry. One of triangular demon's larger, more bumbling allies had unexpectedly lumbered out from the gloom to his right while he's been distracted by Bill and had wrapped its stubby hand around his ankle. He was pinned down now, held in place. Stanford struggled frantically, recklessly; kicking out and squirming around in the giant's grip like a bug with its wing smashed between two tightly pinched fingers. But try as he might he couldn't manage to get himself free. He couldn't do anything, save for hang there helplessly and stare down at the dark mirror sitting tauntingly close, a mere sixty feet below.

Then Stanford felt a slight tug on his arm, and the desperate expression coloring his face morphed almost inhumanly into a seething mixture of horror and outrage. Another one of the viciously grinning monsters had grabbed at Stanley's suit jacket and was now trying to drag his brother away from him. The Y shaped crack in the middle of his twin's chest tore a bit more from the rough handling, and a bust of glowing particles flew into the air like embers from the open wound.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" He roared, eyes glinting menacingly in the dim light as he was overcome by a wave frigid cold fury. Gripping onto Stanley even tighter, voice trembling in barely contained wrath, Stanford's open hand shot out abruptly as he recalled a spell that he'd long ago written in one of his journals, and he used it without the slightest hint of restraint against his attackers.

 _"De pulvere venimus_

 _Et revertentes ad pulverem_

 _Tempus consumit omne!"_

The creature that had seized onto his brother let out a shriek and recoiled away as its arm started withering away into a dry and brittle shell of its former self. A chorus of enraged and confused shouting followed from the rest of Bill's posse as they looked on in alarm at their companion's degrading condition, and Stanford took their distraction as an opportunity to finally kick himself free from the entity holding onto his leg. By the time they'd managed to recover from their shock, he had already securely grabbed onto Stanley and resumed his swift dive towards the ground.

"Forget about that, he's getting away!" Bill thundered impatiently at his companions before yelling back down to Stanford's retreating form. "You really think we're going to ever let you get away!? Get back here right now! COME BACK!"

But it was too late, Stanford thought to himself confidently, a small smirk working its way across his jaw. He'd already made it to the mirror, and now he was going to pass through its sleek black surface and into the mindscape before Bill could even manage to get within a dozen yards of him. Or… so he'd believed.

Instead of slipping unhindered into the gateway Stanford crashed gracelessly on top of it, knocking his brother out of his hold and severely bruising his own forearms and elbows. Startled by the sudden jarring impact and the consequent pain that followed, he wasn't able to brace himself correctly and his body slid listlessly across the smooth plane before gradually skidding to a halt. It took a few moments of lying in wide-eyed, stunned silence next to his unconscious twin before Stanford's initial shock began to wear away and replace itself with a dawning dread and panic.

No.

Stanford's mind was almost blank as he shakily pulled himself up to his hands and knees, struggling to keep his traction on the slick surface below. He started down at his distraught expression reflected back from the mirror; down at the small forms of his pursuers up above his head growing larger and larger as they drew in closer.

No. No, he couldn't have been wrong. He couldn't have! This had to be the way to enter the mindscape. He wasn't going to let it end like this!

The worn, grey-haired man echoed back in the glossy black surface below Stanford set his mouth into a determined grimace, and his eyes sparked with a dangerous and wild desperation. Curling his fingers rigidly and raising his right hand high above his head, he slammed his fist down into the mirror as hard as he could. Once, and then again, and then again; till the skin around his knuckles broke and sent powdery red droplets of blood flying into the caustic air. At first, it didn't seem like the mirror was being in any way affected by his frantic pummeling, but as he raised his hand from the smooth plane for what must have been at least the fifth time he caught sight of a pale spider-webbing crack marring the gateway. Stanford hesitated, half surprised that his right hook had actually made a difference, and half wondering what would happen if he proceeded.

It was about then that he realized that Bill and his gang should have already caught up to him, and as he let his gaze trail upwards his suspicions were confirmed. However, the creatures of the nightmare realm weren't poised to attack or pursue him any further. They didn't descend upon him like they had every other time Stanford had encountered the unpleasant group. They floated a respectable distance away, waiting and observing his progress. Most of the creatures were now regarding him in a mixture of either guarded wonder or, in Bill's case, malevolent satisfaction. The triangles color had melted back into a calmer yellow and even with the sizable separation between them, Stanford was able to make out the wide, sneering eye-smile that was stretched out over his features.

"What are you doing?" He barked defensively, not even attempting to tame his resentful glare.

"Oh, you know." Bill's eye curved in a mocking delight as he nonchalantly gestured around with his cane. "Just letting you crack open the doorway to the mindscape that your pain-in-the-butt brother managed to seal up before escaping me. But really, don't mind us. Keep going."

Stanford's eyes widened slightly at that piece of information, and the savage tension of his curled fist loosened somewhat. Of course, he should have guessed. The fact that he'd found Stanley floating so far down in the stratosphere and near the mirror couldn't have been a coincidence. That was why Bill had been so especially angry, and that was why he was hanging back patiently now. He hadn't _just_ been defeated; he'd been imprisoned back within his home dimension and barred from any further attempts to invade theirs. And now, for whatever reason, the demon couldn't undo his brother's handiwork himself and needed Stanford to reopen the entrance to the mindscape for him.

And the worst part of all was how, even knowing this, Stanford still intended to do exactly that. The desire to tear the veil separating him from the mindscape asunder, and bring both he and his brother into relative safety was overwhelming. As much as his mind was repulsed by the idea of aiding Bill in any shape or form; as much as his thoughts were in turmoil, arguing, assessing, and rationalizing back and forth at each other about what whether he was doing the wrong thing, or the right thing, or whether or not he was endangering the many for the sake of the few, it didn't really matter. The choice wasn't really one that his warring mind got to make. The soft warmth spreading throughout his center as he looked over at the gentle rise and fall of his twin's chest had already decided the answer for him.

Stanford wasn't going to let his brother die here. He wasn't going to let Stanley suffer because of his own foolish decision to summon Bill all those years ago. He had to save him.

 _He had to save him._

Stanford's clenched fist raised itself up above his head again, barely waiting for the rest of him to give it permission to act, before slamming down savagely upon the mirror. The faint crack below his point of impact spread out abruptly on the black surface like sharp streaks of lightning across a cold and starless night sky. He had to get him and his brother out of here. He had to! Even if breaking open the gateway would play directly into Bill's hand; Regardless of whatever consequences might follow.

Even Bill seemed slightly confused by the ease in which Stanford had made his decision, though it certainly didn't stop the demon from hovering down closer and taking another opportunity to arrogantly mock and belittle his efforts. "Wow. I can't believe you're actually going through with this Sixer. Thanks. You're always such a big help when it comes to me getting exactly what I'm after. I really don't know what I'd do without you. Though I have to admit, I'm a little surprised that you're actually willing to risk throwing away everything your brother has sacrificed to stop me. Especially considering how desperate you were to take me down before. But I guess if there's one weakness I've noticed you meatbags consistently falling to over the eons, it's that you're sentimental. Horribly, illogically, pathetically sentimental."

Stanford's resolve wavered for a moment, his raised fist frozen in the air. He allowed his gaze trail up to yellow demon floating above, and then down to his brother lying prone on the smooth surface of the mirror beside him. For a moment, it wasn't the lined and weary face of an older man that Stanford saw sleeping there unaware. It was a young boy with bright and mischievous eyes standing in front of the ocean at sunrise, holding out a hand for Stanford to take. The grin plastered across this face burned wildly in the light of the early dawn, and beyond it, Stanford could perceive the compassion, and anger, and courage, and loyalty that so aptly defined his brother.

 _"Hey, chin up, buddy. Don't let those idiots get to you. Wherever we go, we go together, remember? Come on!"_

"Stanley… I-I…"

Stanford's heart was beating at a sickly tempo, slowly and heavily as though it was being dragged down by the terrible weight of his decision. He felt a little dazed by the bright light of the sun in his memory, and even more so by the blazing heat in his brothers inviting smile. He wondered idly if this was what Stanley had gone through when he'd brought his (well, perhaps slightly unappreciative, he would relent) brother back home; what his twin had felt when he'd chosen to ignore all of the dangers and costs of reactivating the portal in favor of saving the person who mattered most to him. He understood now what an impossible choice that must have been; the unbearable guilt, the gnawing hopelessness, the driving desperation. If their positions had been reversed thirty years ago and Stanley had fallen into the glowing mouth of the portal instead of him, Stanford couldn't presently claim with any confidence that he wouldn't have risked reopening it as well.

"Maybe…." Stanford's voice was barely audible in comparison to the howling wind all around him, but somehow it felt far more powerful. The man gazing back at him from the dark plane of the mirror looked grim and unflinchingly determined.

"Maybe the right thing to do here would be to leave this doorway sealed, and doom both of us. Maybe by opening this, I'm inviting the chance that one day in the future you'll trick someone else as foolish as I was into nearly dooming our world." His eyes trailed back over to the troubled expression on Stanley's sleeping face. It looked as though his twin might be caught in a nightmare. The mirrored surface fogged rapidly under his brother's faint and trembling breath.

"However, there's also a chance that you won't. It may be a gamble, but for the price of my brother's life, that's a gamble I'm willing to take."

And without sparing another glance up at the triangular demon, Stanford slammed himself, elbow first and full bodily, into the entrance of the mindscape. The seal cracked completely beneath the force of his blow and shattered violently sending glimmering obsidian splinters chaotically flying up into the air. Blazing white light poured forth from the tear in the seal like a flush of scalding hot water bursting from a dam, forcing Stanford to put his hand up to his eyes to avoid being blinded by it.

The other residents of the nightmare realm all screeched and flinched back from the sudden and starkly bright energy flowing into the darkness. All, save for Bill who merely placed both of his hands on the top of his cane and looked on in sinister satisfaction.

Stanford didn't concern himself with that, or anything else that was going on around him. The deed was done, and all he could do now was hope that the opening he'd made was small enough to contain Bill's massive energy signature and keep him at bay for at least another couple thousand years. Grabbing his brother securely around the waist, Stanford allowed himself to fall backward into the radiating, bright effervescence spilling into the nightmare realm, and the pair slipped through the gateway's crack deep into the mindscape.

The transition to this next dimension, however, wasn't nearly as easy or comfortable as entering in through the rift had been They fell. They fell, and fell, and fell for what felt like forever; as though the pair of them had mistakenly jumped into the bottomless pit instead. The pressure crushing inward on every side of them and flowing throughout their hair and clothes was intense and completely overpowering. Stanford couldn't help but compare it to the summer of second grade when he'd accidentally swum too far out into the open ocean and had gotten sucked beneath the waves by the mighty pull of the undertow. The same feeling of mortal terror and out of control helplessness that had flooded through his small frame then was once more beginning to take hold of him. For a small moment Stanford forgot where he was and that he was holding onto his brother, and mistakenly, he loosened his arms. The two of them were separated instantly. Stanford could do little more than watch as they were whipped away from each other into opposite directions, like brittle brown leaves in a cyclone.

Then Stanford's back hit something solid, and his skull bounced off that same something with a loud and nauseating crunch. A ribbon of needle-sharp pain tore raggedly throughout his head before the world around him went pitch-black.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: And here's the next part. A bit of a calmer chapter before the hurricane :P

* * *

 _"Beneath the heart of darkness_

 _Lies an old machine that's reeling_

 _Forgotten dust and sunlight_

 _Silent and removed from feeling_

 _The peace in my mind is drowning, fading down_

 _There's nothing left burning, it's all out"_

 _'Beneath the Heart of Darkness' - Ed Harcourt_

* * *

 _Where am I?_

The thought slowly filtered into Stanford's blank mind like grains of sand into an hourglass. Gradually, other senses joined the thought and they began to jog his sluggish brain into action. Something tickled his cheek, gently scraping back and forth as though to wake him. An odd mixture of half-whispered sounds accompanied the listless scraping. Muffled whistling from a tired breeze, the rustling of dry, reedy grasses rubbing against each other, and the dull roar of the ocean echoing faintly far, far beyond it all.

Stanford groaned, muttering a few earth and alien curses to himself. His head was throbbing against the confines of his skull with all the vigor of a child throwing a tantrum. The rest of his body didn't seem to be faring much better. He wasn't exactly sure how to describe his overall condition, save that he felt as though he'd had the entirety of his skin thoroughly scrubbed by very coarse steel wool, and his bones trampled over by some kind of six legged beast. Maybe even a herd of six legged beasts, he amended to himself as his right shoulder gave an especially painful twinge. After taking a few seconds to test his limbs a little and mentally assure himself that nothing below the neck seemed to be broken, Stanford clumsily bent his arm up to bat away at the irritating object still brushing against his cheek and then around to probe at the most acutely aching area of his body. The back of his skull.

Even his slight touch sent razor-sharp bolts of pain streaking down across the nerves of his neck and upper back, and Stanford couldn't stop a loud hiss from slipping past his tightly clenched teeth as the agony ran its course. He took a deep steadying breath and once again traced his fingers along the to the back of his head with a bit more caution. Stanford was only somewhat surprised to discover that the injury didn't seem to be bruised or bloodied. Given how badly it stung, he was expecting a couple of goose-egg sized lumps at least.

 _'Well since I don't appear to be hurt too badly…'_ Another tired, disgruntled groan eased out of Stanford as he debated the very appealing concept of just letting himself fall back asleep for… maybe just a couple more minutes? The more strict and sensible part of himself, however, the part that had allowed him to survive on the other side of the portal for so long while remaining relatively sane and unharmed, chimed in and shot the idea down almost instantly. As a general rule of thumb, sleeping wasn't allowed until he'd personally confirmed that he was in a safe place to do it in, and he had no real idea where he was right now. Stanford couldn't even remember how he'd come to be in such a state, though he figured the strangely aching spot on the back of his head probably had something to do with that.

Stanford wrestled for a moment against the unreasonably heavy and uncooperative curtain of his lids, before finally cracking open his eyes and taking a good look at his surroundings. An exhausted, irritated eyebrow started slinking its way up into his hairline. Oh goodie, just where was he now?

A dense and seemingly endless sea of wheat stretched out before him; slowly shimmering between dark, dingy amber and bright silver as they swayed lazily in the wind. Stanford turned his head slightly to gaze away from the towering grasslike vegetation closing him in on all sides, and up to the sky above. It was dim, not quite as shaded as twilight, but about as murky and lightless as a smokey November evening after a wildfire. A very muted, peach colored sun with a weak and hazy glow provided the only light for the area below. It was grey too. Actually, nearly _everything_ around him was different shades, textures, and variations of dull, lifeless grey. The rough dirt beneath his cheek, the gloomy atmosphere, the tall wheat in front of him, were all confined between the strict hues of deep shadowy blacks to grimy dulled whites.

There were hints of brownish, sepia tones as well muddled into the world, ones that unexpectedly whisked Stanford back decades and decades. Back to Sunday nights at the Pines Family household, the smell of old metal and cigarette smoke, and the itchy feeling of stretching out flat on the shag carpeting far too close to their tiny TV. Bonding nights, his mother would call them, as she'd force her two boys to join her in watching some drama unfold on the 'Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel'. Being young boys as he and his twin were at the time, ones who much preferred high-stakes action and bright colorful cartoons to anything that boring old adults might like, they had usually ended up groaning unapologetically all throughout the first act. Then Stanford would fall asleep by about the second, and Stanley would start to be invested in the plot (to the point where his eyes would sometimes water, not that he'd ever admit to it).

A melancholy sigh slipped out into the still air as Stanford opened his eyes again to dispel the old recollection. It really was surprising, he thought, how much something as simple as just watching TV with the family could be missed.

Stanford allowed himself to just lay there blinking for a moment or two, once again brushing aside the strand of bent grass that had first awoken him and was now reaching down to scrape lightly at his glasses. He was more than a bit puzzled by the strength and the ease at which the memory had sprung to his mind. After all, it had been a long time since he'd thought about anything like that; about his family in general.

After his… 'fallout' with Stanley, the subject had become a sort of taboo for himself, a subject that needed to be set aside and ignored to better focus on his studies. That was something that hadn't really changed once he'd gotten engrossed in the mysteries of Gravity Falls, and had only been further reinforced when he'd fallen through the portal and had been swept far away from anything that even remotely resembled home. An odd sting of remorse ran through Stanford's chest at that, as he shifted his body into a slightly more comfortable position on the pebble-strewn earth. He gazed upward, passed the iron-colored tips of the wheat and to the smoky haze of the sky above, before slipping his fingers beneath his glasses and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

He was… What had he just been doing again? Where was he? Another alien world? Another strange dimension, or altered form of reality?

A few drowsy, uneventful seconds passed. Then almost instantly everything came rushing back to Stanford. Bright bursts of disjointed images and mixed sensations blurred by so quickly and dizzyingly that he couldn't help but let out a small breathless gasp. A dam in his mind suddenly snapped open, sending overwhelming amounts of thought, emotion, and memory all flooding throughout every crevice of his still dazed brain.

Stanford abruptly shot upward in realization, ramrod straight, heart beating in an adrenaline-fueled frenzy against his ribcage. He struggled to get himself to a standing position for a moment or two, scrambling to his feet so quickly that his sense of balance couldn't quite keep up with him and nearly caused him to fall back flat on his rear. Twice.

"Stanley! Stanley!" Stanford hollered out a bit raspier than he's intended, the haze of white noise hanging in the air muting his call slightly. His eyes scanned wildly, darting swiftly back and forth as he took in his surroundings. From what Stanford could tell, he was standing in the middle of a familiar, waist-high, dingy, rust-colored wheatfield with smoky ashen skies stretching out endlessly towards the perfectly flat horizon.

That in itself wasn't too surprising given that these were defining features of his current mindscape; which Stanford now recalled as exactly where he'd been aiming to get to in order to escape the nightmare realm. As evident by the unfamiliar bits and objects scattered throughout the colorless field, however, it was also apparent that the world around him was more than a reflection of just his own internal reality.

Every thirty feet or so, tall dark pines ominously towered up out of the shining sepia-tinted grass, flickering slightly now and then as though composed of tightly bound, shadowy flames. There was something haunting about the oddly spaced forest, a foreign presence emanating from the silhouettes of its trees that made it seem aware of him somehow. A gathering of gaunt, wood textured wraiths all staring down upon him and watching his every move. Stanford couldn't help but feel somewhat boxed in despite their relative distance from him in the wide-open field. Captive. Trapped.

 _'No. I can't leave. I can't leave here. Not till I make sure he's safe. Not till I bring him back home. It's my fault he fell through the portal. I-It's all my… I won't… won't leave here till he's safe, no matter how long it takes. I won't abandon him, even if I'm just doing all of this for a corpse. Either I bring him back, or I die a lonely old man in this shack in the woods. I won't leave. I'm not gonna run away from this!'_

Stanford stumbled a little, turning his head away from the towering shadows of the pines above to stare down at the flattened dark bronze wheat beneath his boots. The bitter sting of deep-seated guilt, hopeless acceptance of self-imprisonment, burning resolve, all surged so intensely and abruptly throughout his mind that he was physically stunned by the force of it.

These were his twin's thoughts and emotions that he'd just gotten a taste of, Stanford noted dully as he reached up to rub at his aching temple; that much was obvious by the mentions of the portal and the shack. However, it was a little bit of a surprise to him how closely the foreign feelings had echoed his own when he'd been frantically searching for his brother in the nightmare realm. _You never really know someone till you walk a mile in their shoes, eh?_

"Stanley!" Stanford tried again, cupping his hands around his mouth in an effort to make sure that his voice carried throughout the dim grassland. "STANLEY!" The only sound to answer him back was the hiss of wheat waving lethargically around in the warm, sluggish breeze. As the seconds of relative silence ticked on, the tempo of Stanford's heart started to increase slightly. A horrifying thought suddenly sprung up in his mind.

"No…" Stanford whispered hoarsely, craning his neck up in a futile attempt to see past the smoky white haze of the sky. "No, I couldn't have. I-I couldn't have left him back up there in…" His face suddenly drained of color as voice trailed off into nothingness. Brown eyes darted down almost meekly, unable to continue even considering that possibility. Taking a deep breath, Stanford shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the icy wash of fear that had started seeping into his veins.

"No, no." Stanford's sharp denial was loud in the relative silence as he sternly admonished himself. He moved his coat back slightly and placed his hands on his hips in an unconscious imitation of his mother on the numerous occasions that she'd been in a scolding mood. "Come on Stanford, don't panic. Think logically about this. You were holding on to him when you went through the rift, remember. You grabbed onto him before you left the nightmare realm, and it wasn't till afterward that you'd lost your grip on him. That means he has to be down here somewhere with you, it's… i-it's just a matter of finding out where down here."

Besides, if Stanley wasn't down here with him then these dark trees and the strange feelings that accompanied them shouldn't have been either. That was proof enough. Really, there was no need to panic now. The most dangerous part of their escape had been making it out alive from the nightmare realm, and he and Stanley had already accomplished that. By comparison, the mindscape was a far, far safer place to be, especially now that they weren't likely to run into any troublesome dream demons meandering through the place. The fact that Stanley hadn't answered him when he'd called probably just indicated that his twin was either too far away to hear him, or was otherwise unconscious as he'd been when Stanford had seen him last. Aside from confirming that his brother wasn't in any mortal peril from that strangely glowing wound on his chest, one he must have received during his earlier scuffle with Bill, there was no rush, and no real need to worry. Nothing was chasing after him. He could take his time and think things through.

Feeling significantly calmer from his self-assurances, Stanford shuffled back and forth awkwardly in the waist-high grass for a few minutes furiously racking his brain. If he could get himself to remember the trajectory at which his brother had fallen away, he figured that he might be able to calculate where Stanley had landed and narrow the scope of his search significantly. Deep down Stanford knew that it was impossible to really locate anything in the mindscape like this, given its constantly shifting and reality breaking nature, but the familiar habit at least brought him some manner comfort and semblance of control over the situation. And hey, he sardonically snapped at himself, at least it would give him somewhere to start.

However, just as Stanford had decided on a direction to set off in and taken his first purposeful steps through the gently swaying wheat, something being carried on the warm breath of the wind caught his attention. It was a slight, almost inaudible gasping noise. Crying, he realized after a beat or two of struggling to identify it, and not just any kind of crying either. This was the soft, high pitched, hiccuping sound of a _child_ crying, one who seemed to be trying their best not to be heard but couldn't quite help the racket they were making.

Stanford pivoted halfway towards the direction he'd heard the muffled sobbing and hesitated for a moment. The source of the noise wasn't immediately apparent as far as he could tell. Stretching out on every side of him was just more of the same empty rust colored plains, occasionally interrupted by the black body of a tall pine or indistinguishable bits of broken metal that could have easily come from either of the twins overlapping mindscapes.

The internal machinery of Stanford's brain was going at it again. He recognized the crying as sounding like Stanley's had when he was a child, but that didn't necessarily mean that it would actually be worth his time checking it out. If anything, that fact in and of itself should have cemented his resolve to ignore the noise as it undoubtedly had to be coming from a memory, and getting lost in that kind of recollection certainly wasn't going to help him find his brother any more easily. After a few seconds of thinking it through and debating with himself a little more, Stanford finally settled on the latter, and once again began making his way through the deep grass in the opposite direction of the quiet weeping.

He only managed to wade in a few more steps before an especially sharp wail cut through the murky air, causing him to flinch slightly and bringing him to another halt. Stanford gave a frustrated sigh as he looked back over his shoulder. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before sparing a moment to curse at himself under his breath, and giving into his piqued curiosity. Reluctantly, Stanford starting making his way towards the noise.

Stanford wasn't sure how to explain it, but as he trudged across the shadowy plain the sound of the crying seemed to wake up something odd inside of him; a compellingly strange mixture of curiosity and… and something else. The second emotion felt sort of similar to the ever-present homesickness that he'd endured while wandering throughout the multiverse in his thirty-year exile. There was an almost lightheaded wistfulness to the way it pulled at him, seeming to mute the constantly buzzing logic and calculated focus of his mind. Nostalgia was the only thing that he could compare it too, but even that didn't feel quite right.

Probably, Stanford mused grimly to himself, because anything that involved his brother had a tendency to unearth up whole caskets full of inconsistent and supposedly long-buried emotions within him. Like 'sort of protectiveness', and 'not quite guilt', and his ever favorite 'lowly simmering frustration'. The fact that it was obviously a much younger version of his brother making all this noise only made these phantom feelings more potent, and seemed to be resurrecting a part of himself that hadn't been present in his mind for almost a lifetime.

The crying gradually became louder and louder as Stanford drew in closer and closer, and after weaving around a couple of dark trees that had been obscuring his view earlier, he finally caught sight of the perpetrator.

It was a… a swingset. Two of them actually, crisscrossed one over the other. They were duplicates, twins, pulled from the same shared childhood. Even just gazing at them was enough to make Stanford hear the faint echo of high-pitched giggling, and feel a clammy, brackish breeze sweep across his face and twist through his hair. A soft orangish-pinkish hue started to color their metal frames before Stanford shook his head to refocus himself and dispelled the oncoming memory.

Both swingsets were half buried in the dingy waist-high grass, but one stood taller and was in significantly better condition than its counterpart; almost appearing as an exact replica to what it had been in the past. Meanwhile the other was… well, it looked as though it was a miracle that the thing was still standing at all. It was old, dented, dilapidated, rusted over, and outright broken in some sections. The bent poles of its frame were completely overgrown by vines and choked by weeds, indicating that the playground equipment probably hadn't been used or even touched in a very, very long time.

Stanford felt something in his throat tighten uncomfortably at the sight of it. The better kept one he recognized well enough from his own mind on the occasions he'd gotten to see it. That meant that the swing set that was coming apart at the seams must have belonged to his brother, and Stanford wasn't entirely sure he wanted to understand the implications behind that realization.

The soft crying was still ringing out almost eerily from somewhere near the base of the more decaying metal poles, and like a moth to a flame, Stanford could feel himself being inexplicably drawn in by it. Creeping forward cautiously, though not all that silently, he inched nearer till he could just peek over the grimy bronze tips of the wheat. Slowly, the true source of the noise came into full view, and upon finally catching view of what he'd been tracking Stanford couldn't help but let out a disappointed sigh. Yeah, he thought sardonically to himself, that was pretty much exactly what he'd been expecting to find.

What was curled up and crying softly in the small crater of flattened grass just under the swing set was merely another memory; an exact replica of how his brother had appeared at around ten years of age in full color and unflinchingly accurate detail. The small boy was even wearing Stanley's favorite red striped shirt, which had been badly ripped from a bout of roughhousing and thrown out by the time the two of them had entered into fourth grade.

It struck Stanford as a bit odd that there didn't seem to be an obvious boundary to the memory, as some of the area around him probably should have been in color too. It was also strange he couldn't seem to recall himself when exactly this particular event was supposed to have taken place. But then, that was easy enough to explain away, wasn't it? Whenever this had happened it had undoubtedly been over fifty years ago at least, so it wasn't too surprising that he might not remember it. And as for the boundary, it was probably the small circle of wheat that the child was hiding in. It was even possible that the rest of it didn't contain color like the younger Stanley did because of how out of order things had gotten while their mindscapes had mixed like this.

Shaking his head slightly, Stanford was just about to turn back down the trail of flattened grass he'd made previously and continue with his search when a young voice calling out to him suddenly stopped him ice cold in his tracks. He blinked once in surprise, and then twice, before slowly letting his gaze fall back down to the young boy huddling beneath the broken wooden seat of the swing set.

"Stanford?" The child shakily sniffed again as he stared up at the older man with large, watery, brown eyes. Stanley's small body had uncurled slightly, and he'd now turned around to face his brother fully. His tearstained face was about as guarded and disbelieving as Stanford felt his own must have been. A few seconds ticked by as the two of them started to recover from their initial shock, and after taking in Stanford's towering form for a second time, Stanley's expression suddenly broken out into a wide, ecstatic smile. His eyes lit up in bright sparks of childish delight as he shouted the name a bit more confidently this time. "Stanford!"

Stanley's small body instantly sprung up from his crouched position like a bouncy ball, before he bolted out of the circle of dark amber grass and dove face-first right into Stanford's unprepared knees. Stanford stiffened abruptly at the touch, his eyes widening almost comically behind the flashing lenses of his glasses as the younger boy nearly bowled him over.

"S-stanley!?" He barely managed to stutter out, staring down at the child gripping onto his pant legs below him in complete bewilderment. Stanford didn't understand this, any of this.

It wasn't the fact that he'd found his brother as a child that had startled him so badly. After all, this was the mindscape, so it was more a rule more than a rarity to stumble across ghosts from the past while wandering through it. No. What had actually alarmed him was the fact that the boy hugging onto his knees had not only taken notice of Stanford's presence outside what he'd assumed to be the perimeter of the memory, but had also just darted out of said parameter and was now physically touching him. From all of Stanford's previous experiences with the mindscape, he knew that this kind of awareness and interaction shouldn't have been even remotely possible. Memories were mere recordings of past perceptions, and all but set in stone like an old familiar movie.

As such, having one suddenly pop out and touch him was about as jarring and unsettling to Stanford as a character suddenly bursting out of a TV screen and giving him a friendly pat on the back. There was absolutely no way that this could be real, and yet, the slight pressure of the slim arms wrapping around Stanford's shins was undeniable. That could only mean that… but, no… How could that be possible?

"Ford! Ford I can't believe you're here!" The small child below him chatted on as he beamed up at his brother, seemingly oblivious to Stanford's own internal turmoil. Stanley's eyes were still watering a little, and his voice was slightly shaky. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! They left me; the other two just left me. I-I thought I was gonna be stuck out here all by myself forever. And… and…" Stanley's brows furrowed suddenly in a guarded confusion. "You're… not just another memory, right?"

Stanford shook his head hesitantly, still too stunned by whatever madness was going on around him to recall how to speak properly. Thankfully, the younger version of his brother seemed to take his silence in stride, and simply hugged his legs even tighter before continuing on anxiously. "I… I-I don't care. I don't care what you are. It doesn't matter. Just p-please, please don't leave me behind. Please don't leave me behind again. I-I'll do better this time, I promise. I promise." Stanley's voice faded as he pressed his face into his twins knees again, and his speech started devolving into a stream of murmured pleas and quiet apologies.

Stanford still hadn't the slightest clue about what was actually going on here. If anything, whatever nonsense the ten-year-old version of his twin had just spouted out, what exactly he'd meant by 'other two', had only deepened his confusion. The young boy below him wasn't a memory, that much was apparent, but he couldn't have really been the older Stanley either. While it was possible that Stanley's avatar within the mindscape had simply taken on a youthful appearance, it didn't really explain his childlike behavior or actions. The Stanley that he'd become familiar with once he'd returned from the other side of the portal was far too proud to ever reduce himself to the kind of honest to goodness blubbering that had initially attracted Stanford's attention, and he couldn't exactly picture the older man ever apologizing profusely into his kneecaps like this either. No, there was something else at work here, and Stanford knew that he wasn't going to figure out what that was till he stopped standing around like a dumbstruck buffoon.

"Stanley. Stanley, calm down." Stanford finally managed to choke out softly, offering the boy below him what he hoped was a reassuring smile in order to pacify his agitation. "It's alright. Come on now, do you really think I would have gone through all this trouble of rescuing you if I just intended to abandon you?"

Stanley looked up at him with wide eyes and hesitated, just for the smallest of moments, before shaking his head. A moment later Stanley's gaze hardened as he seemed to get a better hold of himself, and the results of his efforts made him look slightly older in spite the softness of his features. Stanford bit the inside of his cheek pensively as he noted this. He couldn't help but toss out another inquiry, just to be on the safe side. "So, you really are my brother then?"

"No. I'm Saunterblugget Hampterfuppinshire." Stanley snarked back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Seriously Poindexter, did your glasses get messed up or somethin'? Who the heck do I look like!?"

Encouraged by his brother's quickly returning brashness, Stanford eased the child's grip from his legs and kneeled down to speak with him face to face. "Alright. Well, I've certainly seen stranger things in my time beyond the portal, so I suppose this is something I can accept. But it shouldn't be too hard for you to guess the reason why I had to ask that. Would you… mind telling me exactly what's happened to you? Why you're…um… well…" Stanford floundered for a moment, not quite finding the right words to say.

"Why am I a half-pint all of a sudden?" Stanley completed for him, before shrugging his shoulders and looking away from his brother in thought. "Beats me. I mean… I don't really remember much about what happened after Bill and I… we were… I mean, we went into the rift together didn't we?" The child scratched his head, before gesturing vaguely to their surroundings. "And now we're in the mindscape, I think, and I've got no real idea how in the world that happened, or…" He turned back to Stanford, furrowing his brows as he shot his brother a puzzled glance. "What you're doing here exactly…."

"I followed you into the rift right before it closed." Stanford explained. "And after I found you, I managed to get the two of us out of there by entering into the mindscape."

"…Really? But-But I don't…." Stanley was muttering almost more to himself than the man before him. He stared at his brother in complete bewilderment for a few long moments, before folding his small arms in front of his chest and shooting Stanford an oddly skeptical look over. "Why? I mean, why'd ya come after me?"

Stanford froze a little at the question, not really understanding what his brother was supposed to be getting at. Now it was his turn to stare back at Stanley in confusion. "Well… I… what kind of question is that?" He shot out a bit more sharply than he'd intended, brow rising into his hairline. "Isn't it obvious?"

Stanley's gaze fell away from his brother and back down to the ground. He kicked slightly at the ashen dirt sending a small puff grey of dust flying up into the air, before answering uncertainly. "…No."

As soon as the softly spoken word had escaped from Stanley's lips, the whole of the mindscape around them gave a tremendous, teeth-rattling shudder. Instincts kicking in, Stanford quickly lunged at his brother's small form and held tightly onto him as the ground beneath them started bending and swaying wildly. The inky bronze field of wheat all around them waved and rolled several feet above their crouched bodies in a mighty earthquake that resembled a colossal swelling of ocean water. Tall pines that had circled the clearing, as well as the metal frames of the swing sets, were all sent flying up into the hazy grey air. As the seconds ticked by, the trembling all around them only seemed to grow more violently intense, and Stanford's stomach started clawing its way up to his throat. He couldn't help but close his eyes to brace for the impact that he was sure would follow this sudden surge of chaos. Stanley gave a small yelp as his brother's grip around his shoulders constricted severely.

Then, like a light switch flicking off, everything suddenly stopped.

Something cold and stringy swayed to a halt as it brushed up against the top of Stanford's head, and was quickly followed by little bits of what he assumed to be rocks and dirt showering down upon his back. Tentatively, Stanford cracked his eyes open once more and found himself looking at a series of long black roots hanging just above his head. Looking out beyond that, the destruction all around them was almost breathtaking. The trees, bits metal, and everything else that had been forcibly shaken up into the air was still hanging there, suspended as though caught in the antigravity field of the portal. A few of the floating objects were now rapidly spinning or twitching about, almost spasming in pain, and some of their shapes were twisted unnaturally or outright clipping through other objects. Random patches of blank, blinding white had badly marred the surface of the smokey grey sky making the view as both brothers gazed up more than a little terrifying.

"Woah! W-what the heck was that?" Stanley squeaked, shakily pushing himself away from his brother as he finished taking in the damage for himself. Stanford managed to barely stagger up to his own feet, his younger twin having to catch him a little as his unsteady legs tried to buckle beneath him twice, before answering him uncertainly.

"I-I… I'm not quite… Oh." Stanford's eyes widened suddenly, realization hitting him like a glass of ice water to the face. He groaned and slowly dragged his hand down across his jaw in frustration with his own lack of foresight. "Oh of course! I can't believe didn't factor that in earlier!"

"Eh? Mind explainin' what's happening for the rest 'f us, Poindexter?" The young boy below Stanford chirped up at his brother in a 'not so odd for Stanley' mixture of genuine worry and teasing sarcasm. "Just 'cause we're in the mindscape doesn't mean I know what's goin' in that big head of yours any more than usual."

Stanford's voice nearly shot up a frantic octave as he rapidly tried to explain the gravity of their current situation. "Look Stanley, we don't have time for this right now! The mindscape is an infinite series of pocket dimensions meant to act as a separate reality for each individual whose mind it's currently reflecting. However, the ratio is usually supposed to be maintained at one person per one pocket, meaning tha-"

"Hey!" Stanley interjected testily. "Could ya slow and maybe dumb it down a notch for those of us who don't speak nerd?"

" _In layman's terms_ ," Stanford continued on, barely missing a beat. "it can't support the strain of two minds inside a single chamber. When we passed over from the nightmare realm into this dimension, we entered in through the same door, at the same time, and apparently into the same pocket. The fact that our minds were transported here together seems to be creating an instability, as quite obvious by our surroundings." Stanford gestured at the writhing disaster floating just above their heads. Worry caused the lines on his face to deepen severely as he gazed up, and his voice when he spoke again turned low and grave. "I fear that if we don't remedy this situation soon that instability could cause the whole of the space we're in to collapse on itself."

A beat of tense silence passed between the pair before Stanley decided to break it with a rather unhelpful observation."… Ya know, ya didn't really dumb it down all that much."

Stanford whirled on his brother, using his height to his full advantage as he shot down an exasperated glare. "Stanley-Oh for goodness sake! _We have to get out of here quickly or else we are going to die._ Is that simple enough for you?!"

"Yeesh." Stanley balked impishly, holding out pacifying hands in contrast to his brother's tightly balled fists. "Ya can tone down the sarcasm a smidgen. I didn't say I didn't understand ya, just that you didn't really explain it all that well."

Stanford allowed the tension in his shoulders to melt slightly before releasing a heavy sigh and reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose."Just… please." He beseeched, waving vaguely at his brother's small body. "Briefly explain whatever you last remember happening so I can figure out how to fix you and get both of us out of here."

Stanley frowned a little at his brother's request, his previous confidence quickly draining away from his expression leaving uncertainty and fatigue in its place. Somehow, it had the effect of making him look both younger and older at the same time.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…" He murmured quietly before giving a small shake of his head and apparently thinking better of it. "Nevermind. Ok, soooo… I remember goin' into the rift, then pretty much nothing 'cept lots of black storm clouds and everythin' bein' really fuzzy. Then I was-I mean, we were fallin' in like a really crazy whirlwind or somethin'? And I-I kept feeling really, really awful, like I was breaking apart at the seams, or like parts of me were being torn off a-and left behind." Stanley shivered and hesitated a little here, hugging himself tightly as though he was trying to hold his body together

"And then what happened." Stanford gently encouraged. Taking note of his brother's growing distress, he kneeled down on the flattened grass once more so that the two of them were at eye level.

Arms still folded defensively, Stanley continued nervously picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt for another moment or two before quietly resuming his story. "Then there were two others… parts of me. One was…well, he didn't seem like he was doin' too hot. I… I don't know. He wouldn't wake up no matter what we tried, and we tried a whole lot of things. I-I'm not really sure what was wrong with him. And the other one…." A dark look flashed across Stanley's young face. There was a sudden somber weight to his voice that hadn't been there previously, and the abrupt transition caused an ominous chill to seep its way into Stanford's blood.

"He was in a lot worse mood than usual. I think because of the whole Bill thing. He wasn't too happy about the choice that the other one made. I guess I can understand why, but… I just wish he wouldn't get all scary like that."

"All scary like what?" Stanford asked hesitantly, his own unease spiking at the mention of the dream demon's name.

Stanley closed his stance slightly and seemed reluctant to meet his brother's eyes. He shrugged his shoulders almost dismissively. "He got real frustrated and dragged the other one into the shack. Said that he was gonna 'take care of him', but I'm not sure what he really meant by that. I don't think it was anything good."

A jarring thought suddenly occurred to Stanford as he was kneeling down in front of his brother. Stanley jumped as he prodded at his chest, but Stanford ignored him and his frown deepened as he felt a mixture of both distress and wonderment. The glowing fracture that had been prominently displayed on Stanley's chest, had completely vanished. Stanford's mind wildly put together the pieces of the puzzle, and finally, he grasped the gravity of his revelation. The fissure on his chest had broken, and literally caused Stanley's soul to splinter apart.

Stanford closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh, bemoaning whatever cruel grudge that fate had apparently taken up against them. _Of course_ , something like this would happen. _Of course_ , Stanley hadn't been able to endure the transition into the mindscape. _Of course_ , he'd split apart into three separate pieces. _Of course_ , those separate parts were now apparently fighting amongst each other. _Of course_ , the mindscape was further collapsing in around them every second they stayed in here. His luck had been unceasingly abysmal ever since he'd entered through the rift, Stanford mentally snapped to himself, so why should that suddenly change now.

"Sorry."

Though the apology was softly spoken, it sounded quite loud compared to the relative silence hanging around the two brothers. Stanford's eyes flew open as the quiet word brought him out of his own internal musings and back to the present. The younger Stanley stood meekly before him, a troubled and somehow much older expression etched almost unnaturally upon his features.

"I know I should'a done more to stop him, but I… I-I don't know…" The boy trailed off in a frustrated self-reproach before giving the dirt below him a weak kick.

"No, no, it's alright." Stanford assured tiredly as he shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's not you, it's just…" He fixed the younger boy with an almost helpless look. "So, what you're saying is… you're actually just one-third of my brother."

The portion of Stanley he was speaking to offered a small nod at this, and Stanford's eyes trailed regretfully to the rust-colored wheat below. Guilt was making it difficult for him to meet his brother's gaze.

"You'd degraded so much while in the nightmare realm," Stanford continued on quietly as he looked down, seeming to be talking more to himself that his twin. "I was afraid that the journey to the mindscape would be rough on you, but I never imagined that it would cause something like this. It should've occurred to me that…."Stanford closed his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to internally curse at himself before letting out a long exhale. He finally looked back at Stanley again and offered him a small smile."Well, I guess it's too late for regrets now, isn't it? We'll just have to find the other two parts of you and… I suppose find a way to put you back together somehow so we can get out of here."

Stanley didn't say anything back at that, but he did at least return the smile and give a small nod of approval.

"Actually, since _we are_ in the mindscape," Stanford added on suddenly, eyes brightening a little as a realization just now dawned on him. "I think that all we'll need to do is imagine a doorway out, and we should be able to make it back to the real world." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Just like that."

"Sounds like a plan to me, poindexter!" Stanley chirped as he shot his brother a toothy grin. "So we should start heading to the shack then?"

"Yes. That would be prudent." Stanford agreed, pushing himself into a standing position again. "Do you have any idea where it is in here?"

Stanley nodded before pointing out to something on the horizon to their left. It took a moment for Stanford to figure out what his brother was trying to direct his attention towards, but once he saw it he couldn't help but want to facepalm in frustration with himself. Of course, he _actually_ had seen the shack when he'd woken up in the mindscape and taken his first good look around, he just hadn't recognized that he'd seen it.

From what Stanford could see now, the shack unfortunately seemed to be suffering just about as much as the rest of the mindscape around them. The building was of course normally a bit on the worn and slightly splintery side, even in the real world, but it's condition in this black and white wasteland seemed to be exponentially worse. It was patched together with repeating steeples and windows that clearly didn't belong, severely tilted to the side, and balanced in a way that shouldn't have been physically possible on one of its corners. From a distance, its basic shape didn't even resemble the shack's in the slightest, and what was more was that the whole of the bottom tip of the building was either half buried or half clipping through the ground. Meanwhile up near the top, inky black shingles and brightly shining, iron-grey planks of wood were hanging chaotically in the smoky haze just above the horizontal tilt of the roof; suspended in a mess of debris that vaguely haloed the building like a flat ring.

All in all, it was an unpleasant sight to behold, and beyond unsettling. Or, at least, it certainly was to Stanford. His brother on the other hand…

"Ha, race you there!" Stanley called enthusiastically back at his twin, not even sparing the decayed husk of the shack a second glance as he darted off wildly into the thick wheat.

Stanford just stood there for a moment, still too stunned by the condition of the shack to react to his twin's recklessness properly. After finally managing to gather his wits somewhat, he barely had time to holler out a combination of protests and curses before he was forced to jump back into the field himself. It was all he could do to blindly stumble after his brother in order to avoid losing him. Being as small and quick as he was, Stanley was able to disappear almost completely underneath the shimmering waves of grass. That meant the only real ways for Stanford to get a fix on his location was through the trail of flattened wheat he was leaving in his wake, or the sound of playful giggling that occasionally filtered up from somewhere in the shadowy amber field around him. Unfortunately for Stanford, Stanley seemed to be having a grand old time racing in aimless circles around his older twin, leading them both into a rather pointless game of cat and mouse.

"Stanley! Stanley, wait! I can't see where you've gone." Stanford shouted out into the murky air, more than a bit breathlessly after having to high step through the tall wheat for several yards. He crouched over, placing his hands on his knees and panting for a moment or two.

Stanford wasn't actually tired of course. This was the mindscape, and his physical body here wasn't bound by the same laws that governed it in reality. However, he figured that putting on a show of fatigue might make his brother a little more sympathetic, and thereby help to draw him back out into Stanford's line of sight.

"Come on." He tried again, groaning a little for dramatic effect. "I'm getting to be an old man. Go easy on me."

His gambit seemed to work as Stanley bounced out of the grass over to his right, letting out a little whoop before falling back beneath the sepia-hued shimmer. "Over here, ya old fogey." He called out, raising a hand above the tops of the wheat a few seconds later so Stanford wouldn't lose sight of him again.

Stretching out his back and smirking a little at his own craftiness, Stanford meandered his way over to the wiggling fingers at a much more comfortable pace than he'd been going before. He had to struggle to resist the smile that was trying to tug at the corners of his mouth upon reaching his destination and spying the little troublemaker staring oh-so-innocently up at him with big brown eyes. Stanford steeled himself, folding his arms deliberately in front of his chest and shooting his brother a stern look.

"How about we stick a little closer together from now on. Hmm?" He chided lightly, before offering out a hand for the boy to take.

Stanley's brows rose skeptically as he gazed upon the new limit being imposed to his mischief, but nevertheless, he reached out to accept it. Just before their hands touched, however, he hesitated, eyes widening and sparking up suddenly with excitement as though something brilliant had just occurred to him. A very impish grin spread across Stanley's features as he stared up at his brother and gave him a knowing look, and though they might have been twins, it took Stanford a few moments to decipher what exactly was meant by it.

"No." Stanford adamantly refused, completely stone-faced once he'd figured out what was being silently asked.

"Aw, come on."

"No."

"It'll be fun."

"Absolutely not."

"Aren't you the one who doesn't want to lose track of me?"

"Yes, and that can be achieved just as well by you taking my hand."

Stanley offered the older man another taste of his big brown eyes and toothy smile, clasping his hands in front of him as he begged. "Pleeeeease."

Arms crossed and staring out into the field beyond them unrelenting, Stanford stood there stubbornly for a few more seconds, determined not to give in to his brother's childish request. Of course, that was far easier thought than done. Almost without his permission, his gaze started slipping back down to his twin's pleading expression, and he couldn't help but feel something in his chest give a little at the sight of it. After rolling his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of exasperation, Stanford finally relented and bent down onto one knee. Stanley gave a triumphant cheer, not wasting any time before grabbing at the folds of his brother's coat and scrambling up onto his shoulders. Once his twin was securely perched up there, Stanford reluctantly drew himself back to a standing position.

"Woah wicked!" Stanley exclaimed enthusiastically, putting a hand up to his forehead and taking another look at the dirty bronze plain around them now that he had a much higher vantage point. He started bouncing up and down slightly on his new seat, barely able to contain his excited energy and causing Stanford's shoulders to give a painful twinge in response. "Check me out Ford, I'm even taller than you now." He chirped, beaming down at his brother.

"Yes. So I've noticed." Stanford grumbled back with far less energy. He grabbed hold of his the boy's dangling legs and stepped out once again into the wheat field to resume their journey through the mindscape.

"Onwards, Nerd-a-saurus Rex!" Stanley boldly pointed out to their destination with one hand and grabbed at Stanford's messy mop of greying hair with the other. "To the shack!"

"Ow! Stanley, if you're going to do something like that then grip onto my shoulders instead." Stanford scolded from below. He did his best to bat his twin's small hands away from the top of his head. This only seemed to encourage Stanley further, as he soon after reached down to cup his hands playfully over the older man's glasses.

"Guess who."

A frustrated groan escaped from between Stanford's clenched teeth. Looking out into the slivers of dusky grey mindscape peeking out from between the dark lines of his brother's fingers, he could still sort of make out where he was going. Having to work around the obstructions, however, was pretty annoying and not something he wanted to do as the traveled across the whole field. Attempting to force his own digits beneath his brother's, Stanford started to pry the small fingers away so as to avoid tripping over something. "Stanley, I already know that it's you. Let go. I'm not going to play this game."

"Really Ford?" Stanley complained, countering Stanford's efforts to regain his sight surprisingly well for having such tiny hands. "Who are ya tryin' to impress here? There's no one else around besides the two of us. Nuts to dignity and all that junk. Just enjoy yourself a little. Come on, make up something fun for me." Stanley made his request again, fingers tapping mischievously across his brother's spectacles to the Jeopardy theme. "Guess who I am."

Stanford walked on in silence for a few moments, doing his best to stubbornly ignore his brother's antics while navigating through the gloomy wheat field with his now very limited scope of vision. Then, finally giving in to the amused smile that had been trying to wrestle itself onto his face for the last couple of minutes, he shot off a teasing retort up to his twin. "Hm. Let's see. Are you an annoying pest?"

Stanley took the insult in stride, and in fact seemed more than a little proud of it. "Ding, ding!" The boy smirked back. "That's correct. Your prize is absolutely nothing. Well, except maybe getting your sight back." He amended after a moment, removing his hands from his brother's face.

"I appreciate it." Stanford hummed duly. Unfortunately, he barely got any time to relax before something else out to their left seemed to catch his brother's attention and caused him to start bouncing up and down on the older man's poor aching shoulders again.

"Whoa, is that the … the Stan O' War!?" Stanley shouted quite loudly next to his brother's ears. Stanford couldn't help but wince slightly as he reached up to rub at the side of his head. Looking out to where the younger boy was pointing he managed to spot a stony-grey wooden structure that indeed appeared to be a run aground, very large replica of the remains of a ship. It was undoubtedly the one the two of them had come across while exploring a sealed off cave when they were kids, the one they had soon after claimed as their own and spent most of their childhood refurbishing. Stanford stared at it wistfully, only for a moment as the smell or saltwater and saw dust permeated the air. But just to give his awful luck consistency it proved to be a moment too long. The distraction provided by the flood of memories and the sight of the ship gave his younger twin all the time he needed to start causing trouble again. Stanford only barely had enough time to bark out a string of protests before, with little to no warning, Stanley hastily began scaling down the back of his trenchcoat and hopped down onto the ashen dirt below with a slight thump.

"Stanley, what are you-"

But Stanley had already dashed off into the shining waves of grass before Stanford got the chance to complete his sentence. Muttering an especially fitting curse under his breath, one that he had managed to pick up while traveling through dimension 54, Stanford set off after his brother into the field and towards the towering hull of the Stan O' War. Having a pretty sizable head start, Stanley managed to reach the ship first and slammed into its side with his arms spread wide open, laughing a little as he gave the wooden structure in front of him a big splintery hug.

"I-I can't believe it!" Stanley exclaimed, brushing a few of the grey slivers of wood from his cheek. A wide grin stretched across his features as he pulled back a little to stare up at the hulking form before him. "I haven't seen this old girl in my mind in foreeeeeever. Not since… Well, my other selves didn't ever want to think about it after _that_ happened."

Stanford jogged up just behind the younger boy, slowing to a walk as pulled near the Stan O' War and next to his brother. He stared at the ship above him for a moment, a somber nostalgia tightening something uncomfortably in his chest, before hesitantly reaching out to touch at the dully shining steel colored planks. It felt surprisingly solid under his fingers as they traced along the rough grain of the wood, not nearly as unstable and degraded as most of the other structures in their combined mindscapes appeared to be. Well, not any more than it was when they had originally found the aged remains at least. The hull was a lot larger than the ship had been in real life, stretching almost twenty feet lengthwise from the stern to where it broke off in the middle, but otherwise, it looked almost exactly as it had when they were children. Even down to the inky black lettering of the name scrawled in Stanley's familiar messy handwriting.

"They didn't like it anymore." Stanley continued on quietly to himself as he stared at the ship in front of him, suddenly looking very sad, and very alone. He didn't react at all to the questioning glance that Stanford shot in his direction, and indeed, seemed almost completely oblivious to his brother's presence a few feet to his right. "They thought that it was just a… a symbol of hopelessness or… or just garbage from the past that didn't matter. A stupid dream."

After a few moments of silently gazing into nothing, the dark look on Stanley's face hesitantly melted into an uncertain smile. He turned his head upward to take in the whole of the ship, and a couple of low thumps echoed throughout the hollow wooden hull as he gave it a loving pat. "But… I don't think that at all."

Without wasting another second, Stanley sprung up from the ashen ground and started climbing up the hull of the ship. Once he reached the banister he pulled himself up and over, and landed lithely on the creaking deck. He turned back down to look at Stanford and gave him a small salute while grinning wildly. "All aboard the Stan O' War, the most powerful ship that ever did sail the mighty Atlantic. We'll give all ya survey scallywags who try to take our treasure a taste of our cannons." Quickly hopping up to the top of the cabin to get an even higher vantage point, Stanley ducked partially behind the mast and started making small sound effects as he pointed gun shaped fingers in his brother's direction. "BOOM! WOOSH! KAPOW!"

Try as he might, Stanford couldn't quite stifle the amused chuckle that was bubbling up in his chest as he watched younger boy's antics.

Seemingly encouraged by his twin's smile, Stanley beamed brightly himself and vaulted back down to the deck. Bending over the banister, he reached below and offered Stanford a hand. "Hey Ford, come on up here and join me!"

Stanford spared a glance at the outstretched limb before folding his hands behind his back and shaking his head in the negative. "Hm. Tempting as the proposition is, I think it'd be better if you came back down and we continued onwards to the shack. We still need to gather up your other selves so we can fix you up and get out of the mindscape, remember."

Stanley's smile slowly fell away at that. He withdrew the offered hand and turned his back to Stanford, gazing up at the mast towering high up above them. A hushed quiet stretched between the two for a few long moments, only broken by the sound of the tattered sail fluttering gently in the weak breeze. Patience wearing thin, Stanford was just about to speak again when his brother's soft voice echoed faintly out into the smokey grey sky.

"Can't we just stay here forever?"

Stanford furrowed his brows and hesitated before answering, confused by the odd question. "No." He stated simply, after a beat. "As I said before, this pocket dimension is highly unstable and possesses a very limited lifespan. It will collapse in on itself if we linger here too long."

Once again, Stanley didn't respond immediately. From what Stanford could see of his brother's silhouetted back, outlined by the dull glow of the grimy orange sun, he looked tense and pensive; almost lost in thought. The seconds ticked by, on and on, before finally, after almost half a minute of uncomfortable and sullen silence, Stanley spoke up again.

"Would it really be so bad if we played around here for just a little while?"

"We can't afford to waste any time goofing off like this." Stanford denied unrelentingly.

Another awkward hush passed between the pair. Even the sound of the slowly flapping sail stilled and died off into the thick white noise of the hazy air around them. When his brother still refused to turn around and face him, Stanford looked away over to the chaotic mess of the shack, and let out a tired sigh.

No one would ever accuse him of being an idiot, and he wasn't. He understood perfectly well what this was actually about. It was just that… it wasn't something that he really wanted to tackle. There was more than a little unresolved business between the pair, after all; old and festering feelings of hurt and betrayal that had never really been addressed for either of them. Digging up all of that was going to be a long and painful process, and it was something that neither he nor his brother were all too eager to get to. Given that truth, it wasn't hard to guess why Stanley was so attached to this place in particular. Times had been much simpler back when the only thing they'd ever really argued about was what design they were going to put on the flag of their ship.

Allowing the hard edge in his voice to ease up slightly, Stanford offered up a hand to his brother's back and gave a quiet response to the true nature behind Stanley's questions.

"Things change Stanley, whether we want them to or not."

Stanley finally turned his head around and gazed dejectedly down at his twin. A very haggard, very world-weary, and very jaded sigh eased out slowly from his small frame, sharply contrasting his youthful features. So much so, that when combined with the dim orange light of the setting sun flooding across half his face, it had the effect making him seem almost ageless in a way. Stanford's brow inched up into his hairline as he observed the strange transition, but it wasn't long before a small smile returned to the child's face again and washed away the decades that had been trying to creep into his expression.

"Yeah." Stanley agreed quietly, taking the offered hand and clambering down. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry… I just- I-I guess I missed this… it a little." As he brushed off some of the silvery splinters on his jeans, Stanley shot his brother a puzzled glance and changed the subject slightly.

"Where do ya think this one came from anyways?" Stanley motioned to the old boat. "I mean, the other two parts of me kinda… burned ours up. So I don't really know how it could have been fixed up like this."

"Burned it?" Stanford questioned in mild concern, before continuing on with his best guess. "Well, this Stan O'War in particular seems to be an exact replica of the one housed in my mindscape, so I would assume that it came from there."

"From… yours?!" Stanley's eyes widened suddenly. "But I thought you… Wait, wait, wait!" He shook his head slightly. "If something is in your mindscape, then that means that it's gotta be real important to ya, right?"

"That's correct."

Stanley stared up at his brother, mouth hanging open slightly in complete bewilderment. ."Then…" He continued after a beat. "I don't understand. Why would this be in your mindscape?"

"What do y- " Stanford tried before he was briskly cut off.

"I mean, you abandoned this." Stanley gestured out wildly to the Stan O' War, almost seeming angry now. "You… you didn't want it. I've accepted that. You were always really focused on bein' smart, and gettin' recognized, and figuring out all those nerd theories and whatnot. And… and I get it, alright. Why would ya wanna waste your time travelin' around the world with your brother, when you could go to a big important school like West Coast Tech instead and make a name for yourself."

Stanley paused in his rant for a moment, gazing away into the empty field beside them more than a little bitterly. "Lookin' back, I… I can't say I'm surprised that ya ended up choosin' that. So, that's why it doesn't make any sense for…" His brow furrowed as though something had suddenly occurred to him, and he looked back to Stanford almost cautiously now. "Maybe… I mean, does that school take up an even bigger area in your mindscape then, or somethin'?"

Stanford stood there blinking for a minute or two, completely thrown for a loop by his twin's intense interest in the subject. "No it- It doesn't take up any room in my mindscape at all that I'm aware of." He managed to stutter out. "Is this really such an important line of questioning at this point in time?"

Stanley's young face was oddly guarded and unreadable. The piercing way that he was staring up at his brother made Stanford feel as though he was being examined under a microscope. "Well… Yeah….." He muttered lowly.

The world around them gave another tremendous shudder just as Stanley trailed off. It started out as it had before, with the sepia-tinted field rolling like the waves of the ocean on every side of them, but that only lasted a few moments before the violent intensity of the shaking skyrocketed. A deep and distant roar rose so powerfully up from below them that it made the soles of their feet tingle. Patches of the dark earth began bursting out jaggedly as the ground around them split apart at the seams. Wide, yawning chasms cracked all throughout the plain as though it were shattering glass. Clumps of rust-colored wheat were sent flying up into the hazy air by the severe tremors before glitching out into strangely twitching, polygonal shapes.

Stanford stared out in horror, so transfixed by the devastation going on around him that he didn't notice the black patch of earth that suddenly erupted out from underneath his own foot. A sharp cry rang out into the dark dusty air as he started falling backward into one of the gaping cracks in the ground, and Stanley instantly raced across the short distance between them. He grabbed at Stanford's legs, struggling to help brace him up. The two stayed like that, eyes tightly closed and fiercely gripping onto one another, till the trembling finally died down a few moments later.

Stanford was breathless, heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stumbled back. His twin crumpled down to the earth beside him sending up a puff of dark ashen dirt as he landed. Both of them were panting heavily as though they'd just run a marathon race.

"Stanley look." Stanford gasped, shakily running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself again. "Whatever's bothering you about the Stan O' War being in my mindscape, it doesn't really matter. We have much more pressing issues that we need to focus on right now."

Stanley glared up at his brother, pouting a little between his gasping breaths. "But I don't-"

"Now!" Stanford's eyes flashed as he snapped impatiently.

The younger boy flinched slightly at the shout, but Stanford turned away and paid that no mind. Quite frankly, with the whole of the mindscape falling down around them he had a lot more important things to worry about than something as trivial as one-third of his brother's hurt feelings. Taking a deep breath, Stanford visually sized up a wall of upturned earth standing between him and the shack, before dashing up to the ledge and quickly vaulting right over it. He couldn't see Stanley from behind the obstacle, but he soon heard the telltale patter of his twins small feet racing up to his own position, and the boy darted over the wall a few moments later.

Looking out at the ominously disjointed building that served as their destination, Stanford noted that the two of them had thankfully already traveled across most of the dark amber field in their earlier unhurried pace. There wasn't much farther to go now. Taking a breath to prepare himself, Stanford began sprinting forward quickly assuming that his brother would follow behind him. A silent tension born from the older twin's frantic determination and laser-guided focus permeated the air as the two brothers darted through the rest of the ruined wheat field.

Stanley was struggling to keep up with Stanford's much longer stride, as evident by his heavy breathing, but he didn't ask his brother to stop or slow down. Stanford thought that it was either because he wanted to hurry forward as fast as possible too, or, more likely, because he didn't want the older man to start shouting at him again.

Going at full speed, the two of them actually managed to break out from the tall, dark bronze grass and into the imposing shadow of the shack in fairly good time. Before he knew it, Stanford was struggling to get up the tilted wooden steps of the grey front porch. He managed to grab onto the splintering door frame of the front of him at the same time that Stanley made a little noise of distress behind him. Looking back to see his brother's small legs continually slipping down the steep incline, Stanford sighed quietly before reaching out to take his brother's hand and helping the boy up. As difficult as it was to navigate on the outside however, the angled slope of the shack seemed to right itself completely as soon as they both entered into the swirling inky gloom hanging just in the doorway.

Not that it's going to be of much help, Stanford thought to himself as he took in the nightmarish, twisted discord of the shacks interior. Eerily floating exhibits from the Mystery Shack's showroom, sparse planks of drifting wood that were probably supposed to belong to the floor, random assortments of various doors both blocked off and left open, and other objects that Stanford couldn't quite identify, all hung suspended in a bottomless void of pitch black stretching out on every side of them.

"Where did you say the other two ended up going in here?" Stanford directed the question vaguely to where he thought his twin was beside him, somewhat distracted by the slowly gliding series of shining silvery stairs out to his left.

"I didn't." Stanley answered briefly, shaking his head a little."I just saw the scary one draggin' the other one to the buildin'. I've got no clue where they might've gone to after that."

Stanford finally finished his gawking and turned to face the small boy. Crossing his arms pensively, he hesitated for a moment as he attempted to dispel a bit of uneasiness that was beginning to take root in his mind. There was something about all of this that had been bothering Stanford for a while now, and he felt compelled to get to the bottom of it before continuing any further in.

"Stanley." Stanford started abruptly, but as he noticed his twin flinching a little in response to his harsh tone he couldn't help but pause. Releasing a somewhat self-reproachful sigh, he made an effort to soften his voice and the hard expression on his face slightly before he spoke again. "You implied earlier that the 'scary one' was going to do bad things to the 'sleeping one'. What did you mean by that?"

Stanley looked meekly away from his brother at this. In an almost defensive gesture, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets before shrugging his shoulders and offering up a quiet answer. "He just… he seemed really angry. He's always angry, but usually the other one tries to keep him on a pretty tight leash. I think he resents the other one for that. He's always accusing him of bein' weak, and a loser; thinks that everything that goes wrong is always the other one's fault…." Stanley trailed off slightly.

A worried frown etched its way onto his features, and his voice softened to the point that it was little more than a whisper "Now that the other one's at his mercy, he… h-he might try and… I don't know." The young boy looked back up at his brother, and Stanford couldn't help but notice the sudden spark of raw fear in those coppery brown eyes. "He may hate all of us, but… even he wouldn't try and do something as crazy as that… right?"

"I'm… not sure I follow you." Stanford responded slowly, struggling to interpret what his brother had meant by all of that. After a moment he stopped himself and shook his head, deciding to let the matter slide and just figure out the situation for himself later.

"Alright, alright." He tried again. "You know what, here's a better question. Since we're trying to find the other pieces of you, why don't you tell me what to you represents a…" Stanford paused as he gestured vaguely to the air. "A secret place in your mind. A place that you would go to if you wanted to hide something important."

Stanley's brows furrowed as he thought the question over for a few seconds. At about the same time that he looked back up at his brother with a knowing smile quickly springing onto his face, Stanford's own eyes widened in sudden realization, and they both ended up shouting out the answer at roughly the same time.

"The basement!"

"The basement, of course!"

"Wicked!" Stanley cheered, pumping a small fist up into the air as he shot his brother a toothy grin. "To the gift shop then, let's go!" And with that he started enthusiastically leaping down a nearby set of hovering stairs, his earlier distress seemingly all but forgotten.

Stanford swiftly followed after his twin, having next to no idea how to navigate through what was obviously Stanley's portion of the mindscape himself, and not wanting to get lost. The levitating floorboards creaked ominously under his weight as he descended down the steps a little more carefully than his brother had, but thankfully he didn't have to go very far before he caught up with him. Stanley had ended up leading them into a rather closed off halfway, and several of the floating displays from the museum had bunched up in there like a clogged pipe. The largest among them was the slate grey taxidermy bigfoot that Stanley was currently doing a very poor job of trying to slip past. A small smile struggled to lift the corners of Stanford's mouth again as he watched his twin grunt in frustration and wiggle around it for a few moments, but he did his best to cover up his amusement with an exasperated sigh. Of course, he thought, Stanley would just charge in head first while apparently forgetting that this was the mindscape they were in, wouldn't he.

"Gosh, this place is a mess!" Stanley griped loudly. He was attempting to squeeze himself between the ape-like creatures stuffed arm and the wall behind him, but the gap provided didn't seem to be quite large enough."Kinda reminds me of the-urk cleanup we had to do after all of that gravity anomaly junk with the portal."

Ah, Stanford thought, gravitational anomalies. Now there was an idea. A few moments later Stanley paused in his wrestling match with the piece of taxidermy and stared up at his brother almost completely dumbstruck. Stanford for his part, was effortlessly floating towards the ceiling as he aimed for a large gap placed quite high in the mess of debris.

"That's so cool!" Stanley cheered, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "How are you doing that?"

"This is the mindscape remember." Stanford chided as he gracefully pushed himself through the gap and out to the other side. "It's not bound by the same laws of physical reality that our world is. You just need to imagine something and it will happen."

"Oh, riiiiight." Stanford heard his brother's muffled answer from the opposite side of the clutter. He turned back to look at the jumbled pile of museum exhibits and inched towards it slightly, attempting to peek through one of the gaps and see what his twin was up to. "So say if I imagine something like, oh I don't know, a soda jetpack…"

Stanford made a slightly concerned face at the suggestion. "Well, I think that might be a little-" He tried to retort, but was interrupted by a series of loud bangs that nearly sent him jumping ten feet into the air. The sprawling mess before him was abruptly blasted aside as bits and pieces of it were sent wildly bouncing off the walls. His brother burst through the mess like a bullet from a gun before the fizz from the bottles of soda strapped to his back finally died out. He skidded to a halt on the wooden floor a couple yards away from where Stanford was ducking to avoid getting hit by any loose debris and shot his brother a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

"Pretty neat, huh Ford!" Stanley exclaimed. "It's like I'm rocket man, but way, way cooler!"

Stanford sighed and ran a hand slowly over his face, waiting for his heart rate to drop back down to reasonable levels. "Yes, yes. That's very nice." He offered, kicking aside some sort of horrifying turkey creature that seemed to be frankensteined together before trying to get them back on track again. "Now, we were headed to the gift shop I believe."

Stanley hummed in agreement and then pivoted around in his spot a couple of times while his eyes darted between the surrounding doors. "There we are." He finally chimed after a moment. Darting out a few meters to reach the door handle, Stanley wrenched it open dramatically to reveal the grimy and colorless room of giftshop beyond. "Ta da!"

Smiling slightly at their progress, Stanford made his way over to the entryway of the gift shop that his brother was standing in front of. As he passed by several of the closed doors that lined the hallway, he couldn't help but noticed that more than a few of them had been boarded up and sealed off.

That in and of itself probably wouldn't have bothered Stanford so much if it wasn't for one barricaded door in particular. Shimmering golden light seeped out from the cracks between the wood. A word coded in the caesar cipher was scrawled in thin black lettering just above its frame.

KRSH

Stanford felt something tighten uncomfortably in his gut as he walked on past the door. His eyes were drawn away from the word etched above it and down to the light flickering out from the bottom gap like the weak flame of a candle. Just as it had been before with the swing set he'd run across, Stanford wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to understand the meaning behind the boarded up door. The golden glow almost seemed to dim slightly as his creaking footsteps drew further and further away. It probably wasn't really his business anyway, Stanford justified to himself.

If Stanley noticed what had temporarily caught his brother's attention than he didn't comment on it, and after Stanford reached his twin the two of them passed through the open doorway and into the dimly lit gift shop.

Stanford's eyes were almost immediately drawn like a magnet to the secret entrance that led down into the basement, but upon seeing the condition of the vending machine that served as its door he paused. His whole spine abruptly stiffened in horrified shock. The snack dispenser wasn't on the wall where it was supposed to have been, and instead sat in a wreck near the corner completely ripped off its hinges. The metal frame had been severely bent and twisted into a nightmarish shape, one of its lights still flickering hauntingly in its carcass. Glistening bits of shattered glass mixed in with the various grey bags of snacks and candy bars to form a mess of spilled innards that were spread out below the machine.

"Wha-What happened here?" Stanford managed to stutter out. His brows furrowed deeply as he shot his twin a wary look, more than a little alarmed by the ferocity of the destruction. "Is the entrance to the basement always like this in your mindscape?"

Stanley's eyes darted down as he stubbornly refused to meet his brother's gaze. He seemed to shrink a little in a sudden guarded anxiousness. "No. It isn't."

"Then why-"

"I told ya that he was angry, didn't I?" The boy muttered quickly, cutting Stanford off. "He's always doing stuff like this when he thinks the other one isn't looking. He seems to like it when things are wrecked and hurting. Says it's what we get for bein…"

Stanley hesitated for a moment. His eyes seemed to water slightly as he stared down at his feet. "for bein' weak." He finally finished despondently.

Stanford's hands clasped nervously behind his back out of habit as his gaze drew away from Stanley's sulking expression and out at the ruins of the vending machine. The same nagging suspicion that had been bothering him earlier was now returning in full force, and he couldn't help but want to voice that theory.

"Stanley, are you sure that this 'scary one' is actually part of you?" Stanford questioned delicately, as he turned to his brother again."You seem to behave as though you're familiar with him, but you have been through quite a lot in a relatively short amount of time. Has it occurred to you that you might just be a little confused about all of this?"

Stanley blinked a little in surprise before offering a puzzled look up at the older man. His voice was uncertain. "What do ya mean?"

Stanford gave a slight sigh, biting the inside of his cheek and wringing his hands a little behind his back as he explained his theory. "It's just that he seems awfully… hostile to the other parts of yourself. Back when we were in the nightmare realm, I was so focused on breaking open the doorway to the mindscape that I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around me. I thought I was being careful to make the hole only small enough for the two of us, but it's possible that something might have slipped through just as we did." He gave the boy below him a meaningful look. "Perhaps one of those creatures is what caused you to tear apart when we were descending, and what's now holding your other half hostage."

Stanley didn't answer back at first, his expression unreadable as he gazed up at his brother. A beat passed before a worn and strangely sarcastic smile began stretching across his face in a way that, once again, seemed to age him decades.

"You… heh." He started, choking back an almost bitter chuckle. "You really don't know me at all, do ya poindexter."

For a few long moments, Stanford studied the child in front of him very closely. He was part of his brother; part of his twin. Supposedly, Stanford was the person that should've been able to understand his brother better than anyone else in the universe. But as he thought back to the broken swingset, the boarded off door, and now the ruined vending machine in front of him, Stanford began to seriously question just how well he actually knew his brother, and… how much of that ignorance was his own fault.

"… I." Stanford tried, but whatever words he was searching for wouldn't come to him. He stared despondently at the entrance to the basement, guilt creeping up within him like a heavy sludge pooling in the bottom of his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Shaking his head slightly, Stanford harshly shoved aside the phantom emotions and set his face into a determined grimace.

"Well, I suppose we'll never figure out what's really going on by standing up here forever." Stanford was almost speaking more to himself than his brother. He reached out to take the younger boy's hand. "Come on Stanley, let's get to the bottom of this. Literally."

As he tried to grab at his brother however, Stanley shook him off and briskly stepped away, his posture closed off and guarded. Stanford might have been a bit hurt by the reaction if it wasn't for the way his twin's gaze kept frantically flickering to the wrecked vending machine and then back down to his own shoes. His eyes seemed to be shining with a cold and desperate fear, and it wasn't difficult for Stanford to guess why.

Stanford shook his head to dispel his own nagging sense of foreboding before walking purposefully over to the basement entrance. When he didn't hear his twin following behind him, he shot the boy a sharp glance over his shoulder. "Let's go. We don't have any time to waste."

Stanley hesitated for another moment, looking back at the doorway and out to the rest of his mindscape, before making a small, distressed groan and tentatively shuffling over to his brother. His small fingers wrapped themselves tightly in the fabric of the older man's pant leg, and Stanford lightly placed his hand on the child's back, hoping the gesture would provide some form of reassurance.

Stanford's eyes hardened with a cold conviction, and his glasses flashing briefly as he tilted his head and looked down into the unnatural, pitch-black darkness at the bottom of the stairs where the elevator should have been. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath, and then, steps creaking ominously beneath him, Stanford Pines descended down into the basement, one-third of his twin trailing reluctantly behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Whew. That was a lot of work. Anyways pinesinthewoods and myself hope that you really enjoy this chapter. Things are starting to get real 0_o

* * *

" _Perhaps I lack some foresight_

 _But brother you were so right_

 _Sure as the setting sun_

 _You can't trust just anyone"_

 _'Iscariot' - Walk The Moon_

* * *

The speaker sitting just above the elevator's doors gave a muted, scratchy beep, as the black arrow indicating their current floor finally slid to a stop on the number three. Like a submarine in deep and pressurized water, the metal frame around them reverberated with a long, low, and ominous groan as the elevator's descent ground to a halt.

"He doesn't want us down here." Stanley moaned up at his brother, and a beat later the small hands still gripping onto Stanford's pant leg tightened severely, to the point that they started pinching painfully at his skin. The older man just had time to shoot a half exasperated, half worried, look down at his twin before the elevator jerked to stop and he was forced to reach out and steady himself on the wall.

"You mean the 'scary one'?" He asked gently, struggling a little to regain his balance. Stanley didn't say anything in response, and Stanford couldn't exactly read his expression while the boy's face was buried into his leg. But after a moment, he did at least receive a couple of nods. A small frown tugged at the corners of Stanford's mouth as he gave his twin a reassuring pat on the top of his head. "The elevator's just old and in need of some maintenance is all. I wouldn't read too much into the fact that it creaks here and there."

Still, The elder Pines twin couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as the elevator reached its destination and the upward pull of the negative G-forces ceased. A few seconds later his stomach lurched back to it's rightful place in his gut instead of up near his lungs. Stanford couldn't really say that he was a huge fan of any kind of floating sensation. The little antigravity incident that had caused him to get sucked into his own interdimensional portal over thirty years ago had certainly made sure of that. Which, when he thought about it, was more than a bit ironic considering where he and the third of his brother he'd found wandering the mindscape were headed to now.

After a slight hesitation, the elevator's partially rusted doors began to sluggishly squeal open, and a razor-thin line of colorless light feebly streaked out into the heavy darkness at the bottom level of the basement. Gradually the glow from the compartment widened till it revealed a long rectangular section of the concrete ground below, but beyond that, the rest of the lab remained almost completely hidden. Even the lights that should have come from the various machines lining the walls were strangely absent, their usual whirling and puttering dead silent. In fact, the whole basement seemed so oppressively quiet that Stanford could hear his own pulse thrumming gently in his ears. Whatever distant buzzing of white noise filled the background of the rest of the mindscape seemed absent down here.

Stanford studied the strangely unyielding wall of gloom for another moment before his eyes gradually slunk down to his and Stanley's shadows framed by the box of illumination on the ground below. He gave the dark shapes a wary grimace as a chill started crawling its way up his spine like one of the centipede creatures made of ice that he'd encountered in dimension 27. Somehow the blackness of the lab around them seemed far more deep, intense, and solid than the shadows cast by their own bodies. More... aware, in a way. More real. A shaky exhale echoed loudly in the quiet as the older twin found himself struggling slightly to steady his nerves.

 _'Come on Stanford, there's no sense in letting your brother's anxiousness rub off on you.'_ He sternly admonished himself. His eyes slid back to the elevator's interior as he spared a glance at the boy partially hiding behind his leg and staring fitfully out into the darkness. Almost unconsciously Stanford placed a consoling hand on Stanley's small shoulders before looking back out at the basement himself. _'We can't really have both of us losing our heads, now can we. Besides, it's not like you haven't faced creatures of unimaginable power and scale while traveling through the multiverse before. Whatever it is that's down here in the heart of your brother's mindscape, there's no way it can be any worse than that.'_

Confidence once more returning to him and putting a determined glint back into his eyes, Stanford took a bold couple of steps out of the elevator and Stanley, though a bit reluctantly, shuffled closely at his brother's heels. As soon as the younger boy crossed over the threshold and into the lab, the elevator behind the pair hummed to life once again. Its doors gave a slight rattle before drawing closed, and the small amount of illumination provided by the sallow light of the compartment disappeared. Both the brothers and their surroundings were instantly plunged into absolute pitch-blackness. If it hadn't been for the sudden return of the tugging sensation to his pant leg, and the small noise of distress that followed, Stanford might not have even been able to tell where his twin was in the dark.

After allowing a few seconds for his eyes to adjust however, Stanford did thankfully notice some small amount light softly reflecting off the smooth and slightly dusty surfaces of the lab's machines and equipment. Blue and very dim though it might have been as it shined through the small windows that separated the portal's testing area from the rest of the basement, it was still better than nothing at all. At the very least it allowed him to start inching towards the lab's central control console without immediately tripping over some of the twisted metal scrap and broken bits of glass that now glimmered faintly on the ground before him.

Giving the lab a good look around as he gingerly stepped over a partially torn metal barrel, it finally dawned Stanford that he wasn't entirely sure where he was supposed to be going down here, or what exactly he was meant to be keeping his eyes peeled for. His initial instinct had been to find the other two parts of his brother by simply calling out and hoping that one of them would answer back. But just as he'd opened his mouth to do so, it occurred to him that there was no way anything in the basement could have possibly overlooked their noisy entrance. If someone was down here with them, which must have been the case given the broken vending machine back up in the shack, then so far they were choosing not to greet the duo on purpose. Given that, he seriously doubted that he'd get any response by shouting out his brother's name save the echo of his own voice back at him.

Almost unconsciously Stanford tried to quiet his steps as he shuffled deeper and deeper into the darkness lab. The sudden realization that he and his small twin weren't alone there was making him feel… uneasy, compelling him to remain as silent and unnoticeable as possible. He was sure now. Something definitely was lurking around with them. _Someone_ was observing their progress. But Stanford couldn't tell from where. The unsettling sensation that tended to wash over him whenever he was being watched didn't offer any kind of precise location to the whereabouts of its source. If anything, the strange presence seemed to press in from the dark on every side around the pair.

At that thought, Stanford's brows suddenly furrowed pensively. Could it be that… something like that was the case?

While it was true that people in the mindscape usually tended to appear however they actually looked in real life, Stanley's current condition made him a bit of a special case. His soul had been torn apart, and depending on where and how the split had occurred, the different pieces of him could have taken on any number of forms. The third of his brother that was clinging a little too closely to his leg and currently tripping him up was proof enough of that, as he'd taken the shape of a child. Stanford had assumed that the other two would also look somewhat like Stanley himself, but now that he really mulled it over he began to wonder if it was possible for them to have taken more… abstract forms. Like the darkness around them, for example.

It seemed unlikely, but then they were in the mindscape after all; a place only truly limited by one's imagination. Stanford couldn't help but mentally kick himself for not thinking to ask the younger boy more about what the other two looked like on the ride down. Though if he was correct, and _it was_ one Stanley's fragments watching them from the surrounding darkness right now, then Stanford could pretty easily guess which one it was from the way his twin had described them earlier. The 'scary one' was indeed a pretty apt description for this one. He had no real idea what motivation this particular fragment could have for not speaking to them yet, but he doubted that his silence so far meant anything good.

The previously steady tempo of Stanford's heart started gradually increasing as he warily eyed the darkness around him, and after a moment's hesitation he blindly groped down to grasp at one of his brother's small arms. He'd meant it just as a precaution to make sure that they wouldn't get separated, unnecessary as it probably was given how tightly the boy was already latched onto him, but the action seemed to slightly alarm his brother more than anything. Stanley shot a nervous look back up at his older twin, the faint blue light reflecting eerily off his eyes and outlining the softness of this childlike face as he raised a questioning eyebrow. Stanford was about to offer him a whispered explanation, and maybe ask the boy a question or two as well, when a loud crunch suddenly rang throughout the entirety of the lab and stopped them both dead in their tracks. Stanford's breath caught in his throat, and he spared a second to internally curse at himself before lifting his foot slightly to glare at the mess of broken glass beneath him.

On the other side of the portal, Stanford's tendency towards paranoia had ended up saving his skin and allowing for narrow escapes from death more times than he could count, but in this case, it seemed to have proved more a distraction for him than anything else. Cautiously, he drew the offending foot back half a step while both of his younger twin's hands shot up from their position on his pant leg to fumble back for his own.

As the child attempted to gain a secure grip around his much larger palm, a burning weight from a sinister and wolfish gaze settled somewhere between Stanford's shoulder blades. His back abruptly stiffened, and the hairs on his neck stood on end as something akin to dread nestled itself uncomfortably in his gut like a handful of twitching spiders. Stanford couldn't help but clench his teeth together while he struggled to rein in his frayed nerves. After pushing a tense breath out through his nose, he boldly whipped his head around to peer behind them, his glasses flashing slightly in the faint blue light.

But as diligently and deeply as he stared into the almost tangible inky darkness, he couldn't actually make out anything in the dim lighting. Not immediately, anyway. The absence of something else that was supposed to have been there, however, all but confirmed his suspicion that someone was indeed standing just behind the pair. The slight glimmer of pale blue light that reflected off from the rest of the lab's machinery wasn't doing the same to the shiny metal of the elevator's closed doors.

In its place was an unnatural, unsettling, and edgeless black void; the kind of absolute darkness found at the very bottom of an ocean floor littered with the decomposing carcasses of dead whales. And what was more, was that a strange and poisonous awareness seemed to be emanating from the very center of that blackness.

The abyss was staring back.

"Who's there?" Stanford snapped out hoarsely, his unease finally getting the better of him. He waited for a moment, but just as he'd previously suspected would be the case, nothing answered him back. The darkness behind them didn't even twitch. "Are you part of Stanley?" He tried again a beat later, eyes fixing on the absence of light and searching it intently for any distinguishing features.

For a few seconds it seemed as though Stanford was simply going to get the same results as he had before, but to his surprise, he did actually receive a response to his question this time around. It just wasn't from his intended target.

"He's toyin' with us." Stanley's whispered voice timidly carried up to his brother. Stanford slipped his gaze away from the dark void near the elevator and back to the younger boy still holding his hand in a vice-like grip. Unlike himself, Stanley didn't seem to have any intention of looking back at who was standing behind them and instead kept his eyes firmly planted forward to the small window just above the desk and portal console. "Tryin' to talk to him probably isn't gonna lead to anything good." He continued, attempting to tug the older man forward a little. "Let's just focus on findin' the other one, ok. If he's feelin' better then he can deal with this guy."

"If… that's what you think would be best." Stanford relented after a moment. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the dark space behind them before reluctantly taking his brother's advice and ignoring that problem for now. He couldn't quite rid himself of the tension still coiling uncomfortably around his shoulder blades. "Do you have any idea where the last third of you might be down here?"

Stanley didn't answer him back at first, causing Stanford to shoot a questioning look down at the boy. His twin's were brows were furrowed pensively as he stared up at a clear spot at top of the desk, and Stanford studied it for a moment as well in an attempt to figure out what had caught his brother's attention. But if something was strange or amiss about the area then it wasn't obvious at all to him. He couldn't recall it looking any different than this back in the normal world. Stanley apparently didn't agree, and after a slight hesitation, his grip on Stanford's hand released itself. The boy walked a few steps ahead of his brother towards the desk before proceeding to climb up onto the chair in front of it.

"What are you doing?" Stanford whispered sharply, the corners of his mouth drawing down in a mixture curiosity and impatience.

"Just… fixing something" Stanley responded after a beat. He started brushing away at some of the debris that were cluttered haphazardly on the console's surface.

Pens, papers, broken glass, and other such items, fell to the floor in a series of noisy flutters and clacks that made Stanford's face screw up in a wince. The older man shot a wary look behind them, but oddly enough, whatever had been glaring at the pair from the darkness before remained subdued and didn't try to mess with them again. For what reason, Stanford couldn't even begin to guess. Eventually, Stanley set aside a very heavy looking book, 'A Beginners Guide to Theoretical Physics' Stanford managed to read as the cover gleamed for a second in the dim blue light, before he appeared to find what it was he'd been searching for underneath. Stanford's brow rose an inch as he peered down at the small dented picture frame his twin was now gently picking up from the desk.

A pristine photograph of their niece and nephew was contained inside. The children were grinning brightly, and making a silly face back at the camera in Mabel's case. Stanley gave a weary and dejected sigh that didn't match the rest of his ten-year-old body as he traced his fingers across the shattered glass of the frame. He glanced back over his shoulder and sent the darkness behind them a look that Stanford could only describe as disappointed, before shaking his head slightly. Clambering a little further onto the desk, the young boy blew away some of the dust that had collected on the top ledge before carefully propping the photo there. He stared at it for a moment, an unnervingly tired but still very genuine smile growing on his face.

"Stanley, we don't have time for something like this right now." Stanford scolded in exasperation as he tried to hurry the boy along. "The mindscape is collapsing, remember? We need to find the last part of you so I can figure out a way to fix you up."

Stanley looked back at his brother with slightly glassy eyes. "Yeah, I-I mean sorry I-" He began apologizing before abruptly cutting himself off. Something out of the corner of the boy's eye seemed to catch his attention, and he quickly turned his head back around to glance at the lab's observatory window. He blinked a couple of times in surprise, and then hesitantly raised a small shadowy finger to point at something sitting beyond in the portal's main chamber. "I-I think that… Is that him over there?"

Stanford stiffened at the question and took the hint to stare through the dingy glass himself. The first thing he noticed in the area beyond was the jagged triangular monolith of the interdimensional portal, looming at the end of the room like the fallen form of a cold and colossal giant. It was hard not to be drawn to it, given that the softly glowing constellations on its inner ring were what had been providing the rest of the basement with its dim blue lighting. A rush of goosebumps started to crawl their way up Stanford's arms as his memories summoned the breath of clammy air that the portal always exhaled the first few seconds after it was turned on. The chilling draft ghosting across his skin was accompanied by the smell of burning ozone, and a strange tingling sensation that raced through his fingers as though the air was filled with invisible electricity. The older man couldn't help but let out a world-weary sigh as he looked out at the ruined sum of his grandest project, and greatest folly.

Even as it was now in his brother's mindscape, partially wrecked and half collapsed in a pile on the ground like it had been when he'd first returned to Gravity Falls from his thirty-year exile, it's carcass still held an almost unearthly and imposing magnificence to it. One that spoke of distant worlds, lost alien technologies, realities beyond the scope of human imagination, and the hidden depths of the deceptively empty looking spaces between the stars.

Stanford allowed his eyes to trace across the sharp and curving slopes of the metal that he and Fiddleford spent so many sleepless nights welding together, with calloused and ink-stained hands, before his brows furrowed as he noticed something out of place in the wreckage. A dark shape seemed to be suspended in the center of the portal's radiant, star engraved inner ring. He squinted slightly, studying the oddly shaped shadow for a moment and attempting to peer past the glare of the machine's blue light reflecting off the slight haze of mist in the large chamber. His first impression was that it was simply more loose bits of rubble or debris, but given that this seemed to be what the younger version of his brother had been pointing to he reasoned that it had to be more significant than that. After another moment of pensive staring, it finally hit Stanford like a glass of ice water what it was he'd been looking at. It wasn't an object that was limply hanging there, but someone's silhouette. A broad-shouldered man appeared to have been strung up by his arms and was now being mockingly displayed like a trophy in the very eye of the portal. Stanford's eyes widened even further as he noticed the faint blue light reflecting off the figure's shock of silvery hair.

"There he is! Come on!" Without waiting to hear a confirmation Stanford slammed the button to force the lab door open and rushed into the portal's main testing area. His feet thumped strangely against the surprisingly soft stone of the ground below, echoing loudly throughout the chamber as he tore across it. But Stanford didn't allow himself to become concerned with that oddness. Almost all the previous caution and apprehension that he'd felt during his descent to the basement before were forgotten as he focused his sights on the unnervingly still man hanging just beyond. The younger version of his brother made a small noise of protest at his twin's sudden departure before quickly hopping off the desk and following at the older man's heels.

"Stanley, Stanley!" Stanford called out, hoping that this part of his brother was still well enough to respond. The elder Pines' mind was racing furiously as he sprinted across the portal's near pitch black chamber. Hadn't the boy mentioned something about not being able to wake this third fragment up? Why was that? What had causing his unconsciousness? And was that going to hinder his brother from fusing together once more-

Stanford's train of thought abruptly cut off as he spied something, _someone_ , looming ominously in the darkness between him and the mechanical ruins that contained the final third of his brother. The 'scary one', Stanford barely had time to conclude before he and his small companion were brought to a skidding halt by the portal's engines inexplicably firing up. The four curricular warp drive generators sparked noisily for a few seconds before blazing to life in twin bolts of translucent lightning, and a pair of brilliant white columns erupted on either side of the brothers. Both cried out in surprise as the darkness of the chamber was burned away in a flood of harsh light that temporarily blinded them, and it was all that Stanford could do not to trip over the boy behind him as he involuntarily stumbled backward a few steps.

"What the-" Stanford growled as reached up under his glasses, rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to more quickly clear his now splotchy vision. He felt Stanley's small hands grab tightly onto his pants a moment later.

"Ford, look out!" The younger boy whispered almost shrilly, desperately trying to tug his brother back even further. Stanford allowed himself to be pulled along for a few steps before resisting as he finally removed his hands from his eyes.

Though the large chamber was still quite dim when compared to something like daylight, still partially hidden by an unnatural foggy darkness that coiled about the distant walls and ceiling, the glow emanating from the paired columns of the portals warp drive generators had actually brightened the surrounding area significantly. Stanford couldn't help but grimace as he was finally able to get a good look at the figure who was now separating him from his brother's last fragment hanging in the eye of the portal. The absolute blackness of the silhouette had now pulled back to reveal the person who was responsible for the wreckage that had once been a functional vending machine and a secret door to the basement. The shadow that had previously taunted him and the younger Stanley while they'd been wandering through the darkness of the lab. The second third of his twin's soul. The 'scary one'.

Stanford's apprehension spiked in a way that he'd only ever felt when looking at something he knew to be lethal; a level ten poltergeist, a plunge off a steep cliff face, and the barrel of a loaded plasma rifle, to name a few.

At first glance, he appeared to look somewhat like the actual Stanley, vaguely. At least, as far as Stanford could tell. Despite the fact that the second fragment was now standing even more fully in the light than the room's other three occupants he was somehow _still_ the most difficult to see clearly. Inky black shadows marred his body in stark hues that defied the lighting of the chamber around them and clung unnaturally to his form like a second skin. They writhed and twitched every now and then as though the shade itself possessed a will of its own. There were a few things about his appearance, however, that Stanford was able to make out even with the man's features partially obscured by the darkness. He was undoubtedly older than the child currently huddling behind the elder Pines' legs, for example. Though, exactly _how much older_ was something Stanford had a bit more trouble pinpointing. It could have been one decade just as easily as it could have been five. While the fragment appeared to possess the same dark suit and shock of silvery grey hair that belonged to Stanley in the present day, his face was as young and unlined as that of a twenty-year-olds, and it had the effect of making him eerily ageless. Like a perfectly pristine relic from centuries long past, or a rusty piece of brand new machinery.

But even that wasn't the most disturbing thing about the man. No, the slight ringing of alarm bells in Stanford's skull had a lot less to do with the way this second third of his brother looked, and more with the manner in which he wore those looks. From the way he rested his hands lightly on the top of his eight-ball cane, to unconcerned slouch of his shoulders, to the indifferent tilt of his head, this version of Stanley seemed to practically radiate an air of confidence and control. Stanford found that in and of itself to be an uncanny thing to see on any form of his twin; not so much because Stanley didn't usually try to project such an image of self-assurance to the people around him, but because it had never actually come across as this genuine before. As disconcerting as the shadowy fragment's body language was, the expression on his face was even worse. He had a cruel, taunting smirk plastered across his jaw that promised him to be the sort of man who delighted in causing pain; who savored the thrill of revenge.

And his eyes… there was something behind the tempestuous black boiling in his eyes that seemed even larger than the man himself; something that seemed to summon the darkness around him like the towering waves of an ocean in a hurricane cast shadows into its own depths. There was deep and festering bitterness of long unattended wounds in those eyes. Feverish, scathing, senseless, rage that incinerated logic and reason till they were bright cinders of ash. Hatred, overwhelming, persistent, absolutely ruthless hatred; the kind that spits skin and tears flesh.

In short, this fragment looked like a Stanley that Stanford could only have imagined existing in his absolute worst nightmares. A monster in human skin.

"Hey there." The disdainful smile had not left the shadowy man's face as he now spoke to the pair for the first time since they'd come down to the basement. An orange glow burned within his ebony eyes as he gazed at Stanford with an unsettling evenness.

"H-hello," Stanford greeted uncertainly. He once again felt small hands tighten around his leg, and heard a scared whimper, but he couldn't spare a glance down at the Stanley behind him. All of his attention was fixated on the phantom that stood before him.

"What's the matter, Ford? Ya look a little spooked?" There was a gleeful edge to the fragment's voice, as if he found this prospect an amusing joke.

"I… you just surprised me, that's all," Stanford managed to reply without giving away how ill at ease he felt. So this was the infamous 'scary one' that the child hiding behind his legs was so terrified of. Stanford couldn't exactly blame him for his earlier reluctance and apprehension. His shadowy counterpart exuded a menacing energy that reminded Stanford of those pine trees he'd seen when first entering the mindscape. A foreboding dark sentinel that watched his every move. Stanford attempted to once again wrap his head around this entity being part of his twin, but his musings were cut off abruptly as Stanley continued to speak.

"Did I surprise you? Oops. My bad! Here, let me give you a proper introduction." Stanley cleared his throat dramatically and then spread his arms wide in a similar manner to a ringmaster at a circus.

"Welcome to my Mindscape, Ford." He bellowed, voice bouncing sharply throughout the large chamber. "A land of wonder and enchantment!"

At his command the shadowy fog raced down from the walls of the room, pulling itself across the ground toward Stanley as though he were drawing back a black shroud. They bunched up and boiled there at his feet, and the dim gloom around the chamber was released from the writhing mass of darkness that had bound its edges earlier. Stanford blinked and glanced around at the newly revealed interior of the basement. It was all… well, it was wooden. The floor, the walls, the ceiling; scorched wood had replaced all the previously hollowed out stone. It took Stanford another few moments to recognize exactly where they were before it hit him with a slight sickening lurch in his stomach. They were standing within the burnt, skeletal remains of the Stan O'War, the very hull of the ship now exaggerated to far larger than life proportions.

A far cry from the one filled with childlike nostalgia in the mindscape outside of the shack, this one was decimated and charred beyond repair. Ashen flakes dusted upwards in the gloom, creating a smokey haze. Planks of blackened, iridescent wood were scattered haphazardly, splintering off from the ship, and charcoal smeared across the ground like gray dusty blood. Parts of the ship were straight up missing, and Stanford could only see an inky-black nothingness beyond. If the condition of the ship wasn't disconcerting enough, Stanford recognized old childhood toys melded into the walls from the heat of whatever previous blaze had destroyed the rest of the hull. A flood of unbidden memories washed over him as he took in the hauntingly disfigured objects that hadn't crossed his mind in decades. Stanley's favorite stuffed animal, a noodly creature of unidentified species named Goober, who's pink fur was now brittle and scorched black. What melted plastic remained of his own view-master; he remembered spending hours flicking through pictures of intrepid space-explorers and imagining himself as one. Boxing gloves, their childhood fort, various treasures found during expeditions on the beach, all of them were half-melted into the wall, singed and distorted to the point of barely being recognizable. Stanford felt vaguely repulsed and acutely distressed, as if the sight before him was similar to viewing disemboweled road-kill.

"Wow, for once you're not runnin' that know-it-all-mouth of yours. What's wrong, not what you were expecting?" The Stanley in front of him chuckled and leaned lazily on his eight-ball cane, waiting for a reply from his brother, but it was the small one who answered in a hushed, horrified voice.

"What… what did you do?"

"Eh." The second fragment raised a mocking brow as his gaze slid down to the distraught child who'd peeked out from behind Stanford's legs. "It's a wonder that Pipsqueak made it here too. Given how he usually acts, I thought he was just gonna sit out there cryin' for at least another couple 'f hours. Then again, it is kinda hard to tell how time passes in a place like this. Maybe it's been longer than I thought."

"I…" Stanford's fists balled almost unconsciously as he finally managed to get ahold of himself, shaking off his clinging sense dread. "H-how much time has actually passed is irrelevant. We've been here for far too long as it is! Listen, I've already explained the situation to this, um-younger version of you," He waved a hand down to indicate to the boy. "but the mindscape is a purely individual-based system of reality. It isn't made to hold more than one consciousness at the same time, in the same pocket, and that's why everything around us is so badly degraded and continuing to come apart at an alarming rate. We have to quickly find a way to fuse you back together so that we can both imagine a doorway out of here before this entire existence collapses in on itself and kills us!"

The second third of Stanley shot his twin a cool look as he drummed his fingers on the top of his cane, seemingly uninterested in this piece of information."Yeah, I already figured as much." He hummed dully.

A few moments passed where nobody moved, and Stanford raised his brow before impatiently gestured between the three pieces of his brother. "Well… then what are you just standing around for?" He snapped. "Let's get you fixed up so we can get out of here!"

The smirk on Stanley's face grew and he began to snicker darkly. The cheerless sound reverberated within the hollow wooden walls of the ship and sent an uncomfortable chill crawling down Stanford's spine. "Oh, that's rich!" He exclaimed after his sarcastic amusement had died down slightly, eyes glinting with an almost threatening light. "'Let's get you fixed up', he says! The fact that I've gone through all the trouble of tying my other self up really hasn't tipped you off yet, huh? Aren't you supposed to be a genius or somethin'? Or maybe you're just not paying real close attention." A cruel sneer slowly appeared on his face, and he rocked back on his heels waving a hand absently toward the portal. "Why don't'cha take a closer look at him and see how he's doing."

The second fragment jerked his head to the chained form suspended within the eye of the portal, and for a brief moment as he turned Stanford caught sight of the sigil on his shoulder pulsating with a bright orange light. Biting the inside of his cheek a little as he forced his eyes from the glowing reminder of his brother's accidental branding thirty years ago, he raised his gaze upwards to the captive figure. Now that he'd been given more illumination than merely the dim blue gleaming of the portal, there was just enough light for Stanford to observe the details he'd missed before.

The elder Pines twin couldn't help but let out a sharp hiss through his teeth as he took in the current condition of Stanley's final fragment. His head was bowed against his chest, still clearly unconscious, while the rest of his limp body hung suspended by several lengths of dark chain wrapped tightly around his wrists and shoulders. Stanford could now see ugly bruises on his face, and shining splashes of fresh blood matting his silver hair. His suit was torn in numerous places as though a knife had cut through the fabric. And he was pale, far too pale, a washed-out bloodless hue that gave the appearance of an ashen death mask. As Stanford stared longer he realized the reason. His body seemed to be gradually fading to monochrome, the color draining to black and white like the rest of his mindscape.

But, that didn't make any sense. This was still Stanley, even if it was only a third of him. This was partially his mind. How could he be dissolving away into the background of _his own mind_? That shouldn't have been possible, not unless… unless he was…

Stanford found his eyes being inexplicably drawn to Stanley's chest, and once he saw what was there a chilling dread kept him from looking away. The cracked Y that Stanford had seen before in the nightmare realm was still stretched jaggedly across his sternum, and its orange glow pulsated in time with his sluggish heartbeat. The fiery glare of the wound sharply contrasted the monochrome of the rest of his body and was now no longer strictly contained within Stanley's chest. It was as if a fissure had broke at the core of the earth sending an almost molten substance bleeding from the long gash. Bright, lava-like drops steadily splashed onto the floor far below.

The sheer brutality of the sight left Stanford reeling. Nausea rising up once again, he brought a hand to his mouth. He whirled to the being in the room who he knew had something to do with this, to demand an answer for the violence so sickeningly on display.

"Wh-what's happened to him?!" Stanford questioned harshly, and then attempted to storm past Stanley's darker fragment without waiting for an answer. Stanford's way was barred as the figure slipped in front him as easily as a cast shadow, the orange glow from his eyes seething. He twirled his cane threateningly, the tip striking the wooden ground with a steady clack, clack, clack, as if daring Stanford to take another step forward. After Stanford was stopped in his tracks, fists clenching to his sides, the sardonic smile returned to this Stanley's face. He continued to steadily twirl his cane.

"I happened to him."

"I-I don't…" Stanford's nails bit into the skin of his palms as his mind raced with possible explanations. Deep down he realized that there was no way he would get past this unrelenting grim warden without a fight. But as much as it pained him to see the part of his brother that had apparently taken the brunt of Bills attack wasting away like that, he couldn't risk getting into a major scuffle here and now. Not with the way the mindscape was already crumbling down around them. Jostling this pocket any more than necessary would only hasten their demise. Whatever was going on here, he needed to reason his way out of it.

"Why?!" Stanford demanded after a moment.

"Hm. I kinda thought that you'd be able to figure that out on your own." Stanley's second fragment groused, finally bringing his cane to a sharp halt on the wood. "Do I really have to explain _everytin'_ to ya?"

"Unfortunately being a genius doesn't grant me the ability to decipher madness." Stanford snapped back. "No, I don't understand what's going on here, because nothing that you're doing here makes any sense in the slightest! Unless…"

"Hm, this should be interestin'," Stanley raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his shaking younger version. "Whadya think pipsqueak, wanna take a bet over what idiotic phrase comes out of poindexter's mouth next?" When he got no response Stanley rolled his eyes in irritation. "You're really no fun anymore. Anyways Stanford, don't keep me waitin'. I'm on pins and needles here. Unless what?"

"Unless you're not actually a part of Stanley." Stanford concluded, eyeing the man in front of him coldly. "I thought it was possible, but now I'm almost sure. You're one of Bill's pals from the nightmare realm that's somehow followed us into the mindscape, aren't you? Why else would you be so intent on destroying my brother? You ripped him in two when we first entered, and now you're taking revenge on him for the fact that he's ruined your chances of conquering our dimension." Stanford took a bold step forward, the previous coldness of his even gaze suddenly plunging straight into a frigid fury. "Admit it!"

The younger of Stanley's fragments slapped his face in exasperation, looking everything like a fed-up teacher. His shadowy counterpart let out an unearthly howl of laughter, bent over, clutching his sides as if Stanford had just told the funniest joke he'd heard in a while. Stanford's head swiveled and he glared between the two of them, frustrated confusion creeping into his features.

"Ford I already told ya that he was part of me. They both are. Weren't ya listenin' earlier!" The child reprimanded, stamping his foot in annoyance.

"But… but that…." Stanford rubbed his temples, something cold and sick crept into his stomach. "How can-That doesn't make any sense! Why would he-"

"Seriously? Don't tell me that ya _actually_ expected the great and infallible Stanford Pines to ever look to _you_ as a credible source of information." Stanley crowed, still holding his sides from laughing. "Did ya, crybaby? Ha! Even when the subject in question is yer own mind, the only person's opinion he _still_ even considers remotely reliable is his own. But that shouldn't really surprise ya. You know just as well as I do how much he looks down on us; how little he thinks we're capable of."

His laughter died down to a seething, wicked smile. "Then again, one of the best weapons that your enemy can hand you is to underestimate ya. I think our little scuffle with Bill proved that true enough."

Stanford's mouth took a few seconds to catch up with his whirling mental processes. "You can't… H-how can you be part of my brother-" His mind suddenly flashed back to the moment this entire mess had begun, the moment that Stanley shook hands with Bill; the orange energy that had passed to his brother, the glow that now seeped from the wound on his chest, and the burn on his back. "The… symbol glowing on your shoulder." He tried, struggling to shake off his growing unease. "It's leaking the same energy that you absorbed from Bill. It's- You're acting this way because of that!"

"Oh, _this_?" Stanley turned slightly and jabbed a thumb at the dimly glowing brand. "Well, the deal I made did have some side effects, but it's nothin' I can't handle. Besides, did ya really think that I was gonna just let all that excess power I stole from stupid floatin' corn chip go to waste? Especially now that I have a couple 'f targets for it!" His gaze fell away from the pair in front of him down to his hand, and he gave the appendage a deliberate flex. "Heh. I'm kinda curious to see what it can do actually. Once I get the hang of it…"

"Stanley, you can't!" Stanford insisted sharply, attempting to non-threateningly creep forward another couple of inches. "This isn't you; this is Bill. This is his doing! When you absorbed all that energy from him… I-It must be affecting or controlling you somehow! It's making you sick!"

The spiteful grin now faded from Stanley's face, and his expression twisted into something bitter, an almost pitying condescension. "You really don't know me at all, do ya poindexter?" He grumbled lowly.

It was the same phrase that the younger Stanley had spoken up in the shack, mirrored almost perfectly back. An icy dismay began to slowly seep into Stanford's bones.

Stanley sighed dramatically, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Trying to duck responsibility and blame others for the mess you've made, eh? That's so typical of you. It's just energy. It doesn't control me; _I_ control it! Just accept it, Stanford." A sharp grin plastered itself on the shadowed man's jaw again, somehow both angry and delighted at the same time; vicious and accusatory. "This has nothin' to do with Bill, and _everything_ to do with you."

"I… I don't…" Stanford floundered as he unconsciously gave into the younger Stanley's continuing efforts to pull him further back. He dug his heels in and resisted after a couple of steps, gaze still fixed on the dark figure in front of him. "But if you're a part of-then that's you!" He finally snapped. His eyes were bright with confusion and outrage as he waved wildly up at the figure hanging in the eye of the portal. "That's part of you up there that you've chained up and nearly beaten to death! Are you insane?! Why would you be trying to destroy part of yourself?! That doesn't make any sense!"

"Oh, I'm making perfect sense." Stanley barked back just as heatedly. His grip on the cane tightened to the point where his knuckles cracked, and his eyes blazed with a scathing energy from within the shaded hollows of his eyes. "In fact, I'm usually the only one around here who makes any sense at all! And now that I'm finally free from bein' underneath his thumb all the time, what makes you think that I would ever want to go back to existin' as a part 'f this worthless failure again!"

With that, the corner of Stanley's mouth twitched upward as he suddenly tossed his cane up in the air and caught it nimbly at the metal tip of the end. In an instant his shadowed body flickered away from the spot directly before the pair, only to reappear on top of the wreckage in front of the portal half a second later.

He didn't even bother shooting a look back at the limp body of his counterpart. Glowing eyes still fixated relentlessly on Stanford, he proceeded to pointedly draw his arm back. Stanford's breath hitched as he realized what the man meant to do, but he didn't even have enough time to cry out in protest before he savagely whipped the cane around. The heavy eightball atop struck at the unconscious man's head with a loud, resounding crack, causing his neck to abruptly snap to the side, and Stanford's own neck twinged in sympathy as he sharply flinched back. His stomach couldn't help but give a squirm as he watched his brother's bloody spit gleam in the soft blue light as it spattered wildly from his slack jaw onto the metal below.

A moment of breathless quiet passed between the four occupants of the room as three of them waited for some kind of reaction to the assault; waited for the man hanging in the portal to wake up and put a stop to all of this, or to fight back against his fragment's brutality. But nothing happened, save for the metal of the ruined portal giving a slight groan. The older man's eyes remained closed, and his color stayed dull. His head lifelessly rolled back down to his chest, and his slightly labored breathing echoed loudly in the silence of the chamber. The shadowed duplicate seemed to admire his own handiwork for a second or two.

"See, what'd I tell ya. Pathetic isn't he." Stanley murmured, the slouch of his back unreadable. Incrementally, he began to turn his head around to stare over his shoulder at the pair behind him. The glowing symbol on his back gave another lurching pulse, revealing the vindictive smile cracked across his shaded face. "Tell me Stanford." He snarled. "Has it occurred to you even once in that big stupid brain of yours that I just don't like my other halves very much? Huh? Do ya ever pay attention to the feelings of _anyone_ but yourself!?" He finally turned himself all the way around, eyes blazing somehow more furiously than ever despite his apparent victory.

Stanford stared dumbstruck, too stunned to say anything. It didn't make any sense to him that one of his brother's fragments would be capable of something like this. Did this second third even understand the implications of what he was doing, the destruction he was causing to himself? And if he did what did that mean for…

Stanley's younger version peeked out from behind Stanford's leg, looking up at him almost expectantly, hoping perhaps that the older man would have some plan, or idea up his sleeve that could fix this situation. But the elder Pines twin was at a complete loss. He couldn't even manage to tear his horrified gaze away from the two other pieces of his brother on the wreck in front of him. He'd seen a lot of terrible things during the decades he'd spent wandering the multiverse; atrocities that would've probably turned most other people's hair white, or driven them straight off the deep end if they'd been forced to ponder the moral implications for too long. But this was different. This was… this was his brother; his _twin_ brother, and just that thought alone made something in Stanford's chest tighten painfully. Yes; he'd been paying attention when the boy had informed him of the fighting between the fragments, but this was… worse than he'd anticipated. Far worse. Even now he was still struggling to believe that the shadowed man could actually be a part of his brother and not some other enemy that had secretly slipped in with them.

"No. I didn't think so." Stanley sneered down at his twin a few moments after his earlier taunt went unanswered.

The younger fragment earnestly watched Stanford for a few more seconds before it finally got through to him that his twin had no intention of offering up any form of rebuttal. His eyes fell away from the older man in disappointment, and his mouth turned down to a determined frown as he deciding to take matters into his own hands. Stanley took a shaky breath, and then timidly shuffled few small steps out from behind the leg he'd been previously using as a shield. Big brown eyes hesitantly locked with the scorching ones of the shadowed man standing above him, and his voice trembled slightly as he spoke up to him. "P-please stop. Just stop this. I… I just wanna go home. Don't you?"

The second fragment gave a dismissive snort before rolling his eyes in irritation. "Shut your yap crybaby! We don't have a home anymore, remember? That selfish, backstabbing scum you're sniveling behind made sure of that. Twice! And the dumb bastard behind me is just letting it happen! Come the end of summer we're goin' to go right back to livin' out on the streets again." Stanley's bitter smile grew even wider as he readjusted his cane and gave the metal ring behind him a sharp kick. "Doesn't that sound fun."

"Please." He tried again, eyes nervously trailing away to some other corner of the room while he mumbled on. "I know that you're angry but-"

"Oh, and how many times have I told ya to quit it with all that 'please' garbage?" Stanley interrupted abruptly, already growing tired of his younger counterpart's appeal. "The answer is TOO DAMN MANY! Do you have any idea how pathetic ya sound begging like that? As if ya weren't already enough of a whiny little waste 'f space-"

"Don't speak to him like that." The older Pines twin bit out more sharply than he'd intended, finally snapping out of his shock-induced stupor. He moved in front of the younger version of his brother to once more put a barrier between the two, and Stanley's smaller fragment gave him a grateful look. Stanford didn't have the nerve to return it. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to solve this situation; if it was even possible to force someone back together when part of them was refusing to do so and outright harming the other pieces of themselves. He seriously doubted that he'd be able to reason with Stanley's unrestrained fury, but with the mindscape's current condition he didn't want to risk getting into a fight either. He had to try, at least.

"Lets… lets all just calm down here, alright?" Stanford placated as he tilted his chin up to sternly address the second fragment. "Now Stanley, you're clearly not understanding the gravity of this situation. I know that things between us haven't exactly been great since I came out of the- Well, I suppose even before that…"

Stanford couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh as he pushed away the beginnings of something that might have been remorse or regret before forcing himself onward again. He fixed his stare coolly back into the shadowed man's opposingly heated expression, trying his best to keep his own emotions under wraps. "Look, I can see why your feelings might be a little… mixed at the moment. But we don't have time for this kind of arguing right now! I promise that we can discuss everything that's bothering you in detail later, but right now you have to pull yourselves together or else we're both going to die in this crumbling pocket dimension!"

"Yeah." The second fragment agreed dryly. "That's just too bad, isn't it?"

It was the response that Stanford had been half expecting, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Are-are you even listening to what I'm saying!" He snapped back, glasses flashing in his rising aggravation.

"Hmmm."

For a few moments, an uncomfortable silence stretched between the four, and every second that ticked by chilled Stanford's glare until it was absolutely raw and frigid. "You… you don't care that you're killing us, do you?" He confirmed quietly, fists clenching as the angry scowl on his face hardened. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Ding, ding!" Stanley offered up a sardonic smile. "Winner, winner chicken dinner."

"I… I don't…" Stanford stuttered for a moment. His brother had somehow managed to make him more angry and bewildered in just this short time traversing the mindscape than Stanford had felt in almost all thirty years he'd spent lost in the multiverse combined. "W-why?"

The grin on Stanley's face fell back to something more sneering, and almost reserved for him. There was something behind the expression that Stanford couldn't quite read. "It's scary, isn't it Ford; when your whole world feels like it's collapsin' down around ya, but your own brother doesn't even seem to care. Imagine how he must've felt over forty years ago when ya did this to him." The shadowed man's eyes flared up with orange light again as he shot a meaningful look down in his younger counterpart's direction. The boy's dejected gaze fell to his feet in response. "What does it really matter if your brother's dreams for the future are crushed anyways, huh?" He spat caustically. "Just so long as you get to show off your smarts in the big pissin' pool of academia."

"You're completely-" Stanford ground out before forcibly cutting himself off as he saw the grin stretching across the second fragment's face. It wasn't going to do them any good if he lost his temper now and gave into Stanley's taunts. He took a deep breath, offering a disdainful shake of his head. "Hmph. Well, I suppose I at least understand now why the other aspects of Stanley's personality seem to dislike you so much. You're obviously meant to represent the worst parts of my brother; his most bitter, angry, and spiteful feelings all wrapped up in one awful package."

The cocky man gave a small chuckle as he turned his head to look between Stanford the figure hanging in the portal. "You think I'm the worst part, huh." He mused, rubbing his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Personally, I feel that honor belongs to the sad sap behind me, but I can't say I blame ya for thinkin' the way you do. Scars do have a tendency to be pretty ugly, especially when they're _really_ visible and obnoxious."

Stanford kept his gaze even and didn't rise to the bait. "Personal preference aside," He continued stiffly, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "you still haven't answered my question. Given everything that's happened between the two of us over the years, I suppose I can understand why you might bear enough of a grudge against me to want me dead. But that doesn't explain why you're doing this to yourself. You can't really value your life so little that you're willing to pointlessly throw it away just to get back at me?"

"Hmm, that's funny. I don't believe it's you that I've beaten to a pulp. Yet." Stanley's second fragment shot his twin a dark glare and wicked smirk, not even bothering to turn around as he viciously jabbed his cane at the man behind him. He twisted the sharp tip deeply into his unconscious counterpart's chest, eliciting a small choking sound from him and causing a flurry of orange sparks to erupt out from his open wound. The muscles in Stanford's shoulders tensed severely, and it was all that he could do to grit his teeth and not rush up to the portal to try and interfere.

"Heh. But yeah, you're right in thinkin' that I hate you." The shadowed man continued on after a beat, leaning nonchalantly on his cane, which was still sticking back into the other man. "I can't even begin to express how _utterly_ I despise you. In fact, I think the only person in all of existence that can't stand more than you, is him." Stanley's eyes finally slid over to the figure behind him. He moved his cane up again, and gave the third fragment a hard poke, causing another breathless gasp to slip out from his lips. Stanley seeming to be enjoying Stanford's distressed expression at this, and his eyebrows shot up mockingly as he raised his voice. "And let's give you another big round of applause for guessing what my end goal is here as well. Maybe there is something in that oversized head of yours besides just hot air. Yes. It is my intention to have you die here. _Both of you_. I guess ya can consider it revenge for ruining my life!"

Stanford was quiet for a moment, eyes shining with something he didn't quite want to admit to as he took everything in. "You… you can't actually be serious about this." He tried once more.

"Oh, and what exactly makes you think that?" Stanley bellowed back, eyes blazing as wildly as his smile. "Isn't the way I took down Bill proof enough for ya that I've got no problem setting my own house on fire if it ends up burning my enemies with it!"

"Your enemies-" Stanford snapped, brows furrowing. "Stanley I came after you to try and rescue you; to take you back home!"

The second fragment offered Stanford a confident sneer before flickering like a dark flame down the rubble and back onto the wooden floor below. He started slowly approaching the pair again, twirling his cane in an almost bored manner. "Hmm, sorry. Don't think I believe you on that one. There's only room for one professional liar in this family, and I'm afraid that position has already been filled by yours truly."

"Why else would I be here!?" Stanford shot back quickly, but the dark figure before him could only offer up a disinterested shrug.

"Beats me." He admitted, halting a couple of yards away from the pair and bringing his cane down with a soft clack. "But I'm sure ya have some other motivation. Maybe you thought you'd be the first to discover the wonders and enchantment of the nightmare realm. Maybe ya wanted to present your findings on the mindscape to get a Nobel Prize 'r whatever, and needed more info on it. Or maybe there's some other nerdy reason meant to inflate your own ego that I'm not seein'."

"Please Stanley!" Stanford implored as he took a step forward to close the gap between the two of them, struggling once again to reign in his temper. Why was this portion of his brother being so stubborn and uncooperative about this? It didn't make any sense. Someone who was so conflicted within their own mind, it would've shown in the real world, right? There would have been some signs, so why hadn't he seen them? Or, had he seen them. Had there been things that Stanford had noticed and set aside because he'd had more important issues to deal with at the time. The portal, the rift, Bill Cipher, his research, the school of his dreams, the mindscape collapsing around them.

The differences between the two swing sets that the older Pines twin had come across in the field outside stuck out in his mind; followed quickly by the previously missing, now found, Stan O' War, and the boarded up doorway labeled KRSH. Stanford's eyes slowly began sinking to the burnt wooden floor as all the pieces finally started connecting themselves together in this mind. His brother's earlier sacrifice to stop Bill now took on a whole new weight to it; a new implication. One that caused Stanford's heart to feel like a heavy lump in his chest.

He shook his head slightly as he forced himself out of his own musings. "Enough of this." Stanford brought his gaze back up to stare grimly at the shadowed man before him; a living scar by his own admission. But his voice softened slightly after a moment, as did the steely set of his expression. "Don't you want to get out of here? Don't you want to live?"

The smile on the second fragment's face fell as he suddenly grew very still. Even the shadows surrounding the man seemed to confine themselves slightly more than usual."Maybe I don't, huh." He offered lowly after a moment, hands tightly gripping onto his cane as an unrestrained malice sparked up in his eyes. " _You_ wouldn't get it because everyone always told ya that you were destined for greatness. _You_ weren't considered the accident, the black sheep, the incompetent screw up. _You_ didn't have to constantly overhear people talking behind your back about how you were a burden, how they wished they could just get rid of ya for good. _You_ weren't…" The shadowed man paused for a moment in an unusual display of hesitation for him. Something passed across his face that Stanford couldn't make out clearly due to the darkness that masked his features. "w-weren't forced to question the value of his own life on a daily basis." He finally finished a bit more quietly.

"W-what about seeing the kids again, Dipper and Mabel?" Stanford looked back down as the ten-year-old version of his brother once again stepped out from behind his legs and spoke to his dark counterpart. There was something a little more confident in the child's gaze, this time around, something more focused and determined. "I know we've argued about a lot'a things over our lifetime, but never about how much those two mean to us. Even you remember how wonderful we felt the first time we got to hold them in our arms." The boy didn't seem to be able to keep the warm smile off from his face at that recollection. Despite his best efforts, the dark figure in front of them seemed to soften his own expression slightly as well. "If we don't go back with Ford, then we'll never get to wear that sweater Mabel's making for us, and we'll never get to show Dipper how to hotwire a car like we promised. And then there's Soos-"

"Don't you dare use them against me." Stanley cut off abruptly, his face re-morphed into something like a snarl. "Besides, if we really care about the kids' well bein', then that's all the more reason to just stay here for the rest of eternity. Ya think that lowlife criminal loser like us is really a good influence on them? Don't be such a sap. They're better off without us, and we both know it. All we ever do is cause trouble for the people we care about." The glare he shot the younger boy was feverish and unrelenting. " _Everyone_ is better off without us."

As the man's gravelly voice tapered off the whole of the mindscape gave another tremendous, bone-jarring shudder. Stanford barely had time to gasp and reach out to grab the child next to him as the wooden walls and floor around them gave a series of thundering cracks. Some of the charcoal remains of the boards suddenly splintered inward as though something was squeezing tightly around the outside of the chamber, and a rain of black slivers were sent flying into the air along with large clouds of shimmering grey ash. The lights from within the portal's twin warp drive generators flickered violently across the nebulous mess suspended in the air, as though in time to a rapid heartbeat. Sparks of bright white lightning shot out wildly on every side around the four circular pads as its energy leaked forth into the room. Some of the bolts disappeared once they made contact with the dark ground, walls, and ceiling, as they should have, and others stayed there as a permanent fixture; savagely jolting and twitching around like loose pieces string blown in a gale.

Stanford held his breath till the shaking stopped once more, and the next inhale he took was one full of the smells of iron, and ash, and burning ozone. He released the boy from his previous white-knuckled grip and sent an icy glare at his brother's second fragment. The shadowed man stood casually among the shaking lightning, silvery clouds, broken wooden boards and rampant destruction of his own mind, looking as though he couldn't be more disinterested with carnage littered around him. He shot his brother a deliberate smirk, and Stanford couldn't help but feel his ire begin to rise.

He was out of options. Stanford had tried, but there didn't seem to be a way of reasoning with something apparently forged out of pure wrath and spite like this fragment of his brother was. For whatever cause or justification he had, the man was set on killing them, and that was that. As much as Stanford hadn't wanted to risk an all-out fight, he couldn't think of a way to avoid it. At least, not with the time constraints currently being placed on them.

The elder Pine twin sent a look down to the still slightly shaking child at his knees, and addressed him gravely. "If he's unconscious will you be able to fuse back together with him?"

Stanley stared back up at him for a moment, brown eyes shining with something akin to fear before giving a tentative nod. "I… I think so."

Stanford gaze softened slightly as gave the boy a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. He turned again to face the grinning man in front of them. "Fine then. If this is the way you want to be then I suppose we'll just have to do things the hard way. As much as it pains me to force something like you back into my brother, we don't really have a choice if we want to get out of here alive."

"Oh, this is going to be fun, isn't it!" Stanley crowed. Just the prospect of a fight seemed to cause his eyes to start flaring brightly, and he readjusted his grip on his cane so that it would be easier to lash out with it.

Stanford let out a tense breath through his nose and offered his small companion a slight nod to make sure that he was ready. The boy didn't respond back at first, his gaze flickering nervously to the imposing form of the second fragment of his soul, and then back down to his shoes. "I-I don't know if I can-"

"Don't forget that we're in the mindscape." Stanford gently reminded. "You're only limited by what you can think up in here, and we have two minds working against his one." Stanley blinked up at him for a moment, mulling over his words and seeming to take them to heart. He gave his brother a small, more confident smile before hesitantly returning the nod and stepping out at Stanford's side. He waited to follow the older man's lead.

Already having a strategy in mind, Stanford didn't waste any time before charging forward. Quickly, he re-created a propulsion cannon he'd remembered borrowing during his stay in dimension 43 and aimed it directly at the second fragment. The bright green beam from his weapon crashed against a wall of broken bottles that his opponent had summoned to defend himself at the last minute, sending thousands of glass shards shattering wildly up into the air. They didn't fall back down to the ground immediately. Instead, they hovered and shimmered like fish scales as the bright flashes of the lightning in the room around them reflected off their surfaces. Stanford put two and two together, and managed to summon a large piece of sheet metal just in time as the suspended glass suddenly all shot over in their direction. Both he and Stanley ducked behind it, the boy wincing slightly at the loud crashing sound that followed. As the attack ceased and the glass disappeared, Stanford peeked out over his makeshift shield to aim a counter at the second fragment, only to find himself looking at an empty space where the man had previously stood. He searched around tensely for a few seconds before an especially vulgar curse to his left flank suddenly caught his attention. The shadowed man was dueling off against a group of rather cartoonish pirate ghosts, swinging a handful of dark chains wildly around him as he tried to dispel his younger counterpart's creations.

The battle erupted into chaos after that.

It was a mess that made Stanford's heart race and his mind whirl around wildly as he struggled to keep up with his brother's two fragments. The shadowy one was especially cruel and relentless in his attacks, hardly leaving any room for his twin to gather his wits before he brought forth some new nightmare from depths of his depraved mind. There were several instances where Stanford was barely able to dodge the towering waves of razor blades sent in his direction, or block against a flock of plastic comb shives that rained down upon the pair. The various cuts on the arms of his jacket proved that well enough.

His younger companion, on the other hand, was faring much better, and somehow even seemed to be commanding the tide of the battle more than its other two participants. Whether this was due to the sheer expanse of his childlike imagination, or because he was able to better predict the attacks of someone who was part of himself, or even because the shadowed man seemed to be oddly reluctant to hurt his younger counterpart, Stanford couldn't say for certain.

But despite the second fragment's ruthlessness, it became apparent within minutes that the opposing pair had the upper hand. The decisive blow was struck when the second fragment got stuck to the wall by a blizzard of sticky toffee coated peanuts. He was held still long enough to be blasted in the side by heavy density laser that Stanford had long ago made the designs for but never actually got around to creating.

Utterly exhausted and cornered, he slumped against the burnt wood paneling of the wall as his sugary restraints began to fade away. He clutched his ribs in clear pain as his chest heaved up and down, and a moment later he fell to his hands and knees, unable to keep himself upright. His orange eyes blazed with a terrifying energy from behind the silvery mess of his hair, and the shadows partially shrouding his features seemed to ripple in fury.

"And that puts an end to that." Stanford concluded coldly. He shifted the heavy metal casing of the laser around on his shoulder, taking deliberate aim at the fragment, and shoving away the nagging sense of guilt that sprung up as he watched the man's obvious suffering. It was still part of his brother after all, and despite the fact that he'd intended to kill them, and that Stanford had already tried alternatives, he couldn't help but wish that it hadn't come down to this. If these feelings really were part of his twin… Well, he and Stanley would talk things out later, the older Pines twin mentally promised to himself again.

But Stanley didn't seem to notice the large device being pointed at his head. In fact, he wasn't looking at Stanford at all. Instead, the full weight of his boiling, accusatory glare was fixed on the small child that was now situated at almost eye level with him. The younger fragment took a couple of nervous steps back. "Why are ya siding with him? Huh?" The man asked, his voice rough and shaky. "W-why would you side with that-with the guy who… why would you side with him?!"

"Because it's Stanford. He's trying to help me, to help us." Stanford glanced at the boy and felt a warmth tug at his heart from the sheer child-like conviction in his voice.

"Heh," The defeated fragment scoffed breathlessly, fixating the younger with a disappointed, almost knowing look, as the orange glow in his eyes flared up again. For a few seconds, a smirk twitched and struggled to win over his expression, but he seemed too overcome by anger to force his mouth into anything but a bitter grimace. "Ya really believe that? You stupid kid. Tell me, _was it Stanford_ who helped take care of us when we were out on the streets for ten years? _Was it Stanford_ who got us through prison? _Was it Stanford_ who had the steady hand to shoot Jorge before he gutted us like a pig? _Was it Stanford_ who was always watching our back for the cops and loan sharks that were constantly tailin' after us?" He shot an especially vile glower over at his counterpart before growling lowly through his teeth. " _Was it Stanford_ who took the necessary steps to keep us alive when _you_ decided that it would be a good idea to take whisky with the pain meds we nicked from the hospital because _you_ just couldn't handle it anymore?! Huh!"

The young Stanley turned away at the words, an unreadable expression making his face strangely blank.

"No, it wasn't him." The shadowed man continued on, more calm than he'd been before. He drew himself up slightly, and a confidence that made the hairs on the back of Stanford's neck stand on end started creeping into his voice once more. "It was me, wasn't it? _I'm_ the one who did all of that stuff. I'm the one you trusted and counted on when you had no one else to turn to because _Stanford_ had abandoned you! He was the one who put you in those situations in the first place, the one who destroyed your dream of sailing around the world on the ship we poured our heart and soul into! Wasn't _he_ the one who closed the curtains on ya when you reached up to him and begged him for help?" His scorching gaze finally slid over to Stanford for a moment, and he gave a mocking snicker before shaking his head in apparent disbelief and disgust. "But now, you really think he's tryin' to help you _now_?! He's just using ya so he can get out of this stupid dimension like he manipulated us into protecting him from bullies when we were kids! And just like back then, as soon as you've outlived your usefulness to him he'll consider you a suffocating burden and leave ya to rot!"

"No." The young boy suddenly refuted as he turned back around. Glitched, waving strands of electricity from the mindscape's earlier quake cast odd and unsteady shadows across his face. The same agelessness that Stanford had seen the child take on when they'd argued about the Stan O' War, and that seemed to define the second fragment so completely, started seeping into his features again. But that wasn't all that was there. Uncertainty was starting to take root as well. "No you're wrong. He wouldn't-"

"You know as well as I do that he would." The shadowed man interrupted, expression practically dripping with resentment. "Stanford doesn't care about loyalty, doesn't care about family. He burned your shoulder for the sake of his own dumb book. You're worth less to him than a pile of bound paper, or some stupid diploma saying that he graduated from West Coast Tech! Come on kid!" He pressured, easing himself up a bit further. "Who's _actually_ been there for ya through thick and thin? Who's side should you really be on here?"

"I-I… I don't…" Stanley tried, but whatever he was going to say died in his throat. Stanford's brow's furrowed slightly, and reached out to give the boy a reassuring pat on the head only for the fragment to quickly duck away and refuse to meet his eyes.

"Which one of us had the courage to take on Bill Cipher and protect the people we care about, HUH?!" The second fragment abruptly roared, eyes burning brightly as he fixed Stanford with an accusing glare. "Didn't Poindexter agree that he'd stay away from the kids so they wouldn't get dragged into this mess because of him?! Did he keep his word?!"

Stanford stiffened as that final insinuation struck a raw nerve. "That's enough out of you!" He frigidly snapped, once again taking aim. "You have no idea what you're talking abo-agh!"

Stanford's eyes widened as several dozen popsicle sticks suddenly appeared out of thin air to his right and bolted directly at him. He was completely caught off guard, not even having the time to think up something for a counter before the thin slivers of wood tore through his clothes and slammed him to the wall near the entrance of the portal room. The breath was abruptly knocked out of his lungs as he hit the glass of the observatory window, and he could hear a small series of cracks spider webbing behind him from the force of the blow. Stanford's eyes widened in shock for a few moments before his horrified gaze trailed over to where his brother's fragments were watching him.

The dark fragment finally rose from the ground completely and cracked his neck, his cocky grin falling back into place. Meanwhile, the younger boy stood shivering, his head turned away from his brother now pinned to the wall like a butterfly in a bug collection. He didn't move as his other fragment placed a hand on his shoulder in an almost genial manner. "Thanks kid, that's more like it.. You can go ahead and sit out for the rest of this. I'll take care of things for you like I usually do."

A mixture of terror, rage, and betrayal rose up in an awful cocktail within Stanford. He desperately tried to tug his arms out from the popsicles sticks now embedded into the wall behind him.

"Wh-Are you insane?!" He cried frantically. "Don't listen to him! The mindscape is about to collapse and kill both of us! You can't seriously want that-want any of this. You can't let him do this! I'm not going to abandon you. I went into the nightmare realm after you to try and save you! I'm trying to save you!"

The child's voice was very quiet. He gazed directly up at his brother, appearance still youthful, but marred by something older, sadder, and more guarded. "And I'm really supposed to just trust ya when you say something like that?" Stanley closed his eyes before wiggling out of his dark counterparts grip and turning around. He began to walk away from the other two, over to the eye of the portal.

"Stanley wait!" Stanford implored, muscles straining as the glass behind him gave another foreboding crack. "Please! Please, you can't do this!"

The child hesitated at that and stopped, giving Stanford some semblance of hope that he was actually getting through to him. But Stanley didn't turn around. His voice was muffled and introspective, and it was difficult to make out at what he was saying at first. "When you were askin' me to get rid of that Journal for ya thirty years ago, do you… remember what it was that ya said to me?"

Stanford worriedly pondered at that. He'd said more a few things to his brother when they'd been arguing about hiding his first journal, and some of them were quite unkind. But he wasn't given long to wonder what Stanley was getting at before his own, slightly younger voice, began reverberating in the large chamber around them. _"I have something to ask of you. Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat? Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!"_

The last sentence echoed unnaturally around the burnt wooden walls for a few moments before fading away to nothing. Stanley still stubbornly kept his back to his brother, giving the older man nothing to work with save the troubled slouch in his shoulders.

"That postcard tellin' me to come down to Gravity Falls…"The boy hesitantly spoke up again, his voice heavy and strained with some emotion that Stanford couldn't quite identify. "I-I thought you'd sent it because ya… ya missed me; that ya wanted to make things alright between us. But as soon as I got there you were already plannin' on pushin' me as far away as possible. To the edge of the earth. You didn't even ask me how I was doin', or what was going on in my life, before tryin' to get rid of me again. I… I thought that ya'd abandoned our dream to sail around on the Stan O' War because that kinda travelin' around just didn't interest ya anymore, or 'cause ya felt you were meant for better things, or maybe 'cause it just didn't mean as much to you as it did to me…."

Stanley trailed off slightly as he seemed to notice something. He walked over to one of the heavily scorched, shining black walls and stretched his fingers up to a singed piece of crumpled paper that was sticking oddly out from between the black planks. Very carefully, he plucked it out, holding it as though it were something far heavier. The muscles in Stanford's neck gave an uncomfortable twinge as he squirmed around to see what was on the paper, and his heart gave a wistful lurch when he caught sight of two faded handprints. An old relic from an untroubled childhood long past. The younger fragment stared at it forlornly, his head bowed.

"But the Stan O' War we saw out there in the mindscape," He continued quietly after another moment or so, his voice cracking. "It came from your mind, not mine. Obviously, it's not the idea of sailin' around the world that ya don't like; it never has been." Finally, the child turned around again, and his soft face was streaked with hot and shining tears."It's the fact that ya would'a had to do it with me, isn't it."

"I… S-Stanley please." Stanford frantically begged, his own mixed emotions starting to get the better of him. "We don't have time for this! The mindscape-you have to- gah! Why are you being so unreasonable!? You know that isn't true!"

"No, I don't." Stanley snapped back as he bitterly wiped at his face. "It was supposed to be us forever, but you left me in the dust at the first chance ya got. Ya… ya didn't even hesitate. You were going all the way to the opposite side of the country, and who knows how often we would'a gotten to see each other. But that didn't seem to upset you at all. Not even a little!"

"I-it wasn't that. I was-"

"That's right, isn't it." The second fragment interjected, grinning in smug satisfaction at the pair before him. "Even your own twin brother, the person you were supposed to be able to count on to have your back no matter what, even he knows you're just not worth it."

Stanford sent a cold glare in the dark figure's direction before shaking his head and turning back to the younger child. "Look, Stanley. I… It's complicated, alright." He tried again, softening his voice and unintentionally letting some of his own weariness start to bleed through. "That whole situation with… It was just a mess. I promise you, we can discuss this later, but right now we just don't have any time to waste!"

Stanley looked over to his brother, his watery brown eyes carefully searching Stanford's for something. Though what exactly, the older twin could only guess. After a moment, the boy's expression soaked through with even more bitterness and hurt than had been there previously as he came back seemingly unsatisfied. He turned back around, shoulders tensing severely as he started curling up even tighter within himself.

"You've… you've never actually wanted me around, have you." He accused, breath hitching slightly as he went on. "You've always just been tryin' to get rid of me. Even as we speak, you're kicking me outta the shack. A-after thirty years of not talkin' or even seein' each other, you still don't want anything to do with me." The boy looked over his shoulder with red-rimmed eyes, his back trembling severely as his small frame was wracked with silent sobs. Stanford's own ribcage seemed to constrict around his lungs at the sight, but as desperately as he wanted to go and comfort the boy, he couldn't manage to break himself free.

"Ford I-I… I love bein' with you; I love bein' around you. B-but-" He started weeping in earnest now, his knees hitting the wood below with a soft thud "But all you ever seem to think of me is that I'm suffocating, or that I'm holding you back. I just… I-If you don't want me around, then stop playing games with me and leave me alone." The child moaned quietly. "Just… leave me alone."

The second fragment started howling in laughter again, slapping his knee as looked down on the miserable form of his younger counterpart. "Aw, boo-hoo-hoo." He mocked, grinning venomously. "Poor baby has it sooooo bad. Ha! I told ya all of this years ago, and it's only now that ya believe me?! Good grief. It's no wonder everyone thinks we're so pathetic."

"No, Stanley!" Stanford shouted. A few of the popsicle sticks clattered to the ground as he quickly jerked his right arm in an attempt to free it of the restraints. "Stanley, listen to me." But the child didn't respond back, save to meekly cover his ears and curl into the wooden ground below. It was too late. Stanford had lost him.

The shadowed man began strolling over to Stanford, unhurried, his cane deliberately clacking with each step he took. He stopped just in front of his brother, looming over him with all power and intimidation that he could manage to summon. Bright, smoldering orange eyes peeked out from within the darkness that shrouded his features and burned deeply into Stanford's own. The older Pines twin could practically feel the heat radiating off from his gaze "Oh, just drop it already." He snarled lowly, a sharp grin splitting across his face. "You heard the kid, Poindexter. We don't want anything to do with ya anymore. _Back off_!"

Stanford could do little more than stare blankly back, too horrified by how out of control the situation had gotten to begin thinking up a plan, or even a retort.

Just then the mindscape gave another tremendous shake. The wooden walls around them groaned and roared as though in pain as they caved in a little more, splintering jaggedly at the corners. Small showers of powdery grey ash and shining black bits of charcoal fell from the ceiling and saturated the air in a hazy coating of soot. The twitching lightning from the previous tremors suddenly pulsed and changed into eerily blank squares that hung suspended like cold white wraiths above them.

Stanford took the distraction caused by the center of Stanley's mindscape glitching out as an opportunity, and desperately struggled against his restraints, but he barely wiggled another few of the small sticks lose before his brother's second fragment was on top of him again. The man seemed oblivious to the destruction around him, leaning a nonchalant hand by his captured twin's head and grinning darkly.

"It's kinda funny, isn't it?" Stanley mused, his voice quiet and cruel. The shadows flickered and whipped wildly around him like pitch black fire, starting to slowly creep off his fingers and onto the wall behind Stanford as his brother pressed in uncomfortably close. The older Pines twin couldn't help but wince and jerk his own head back as the darkness flickered threateningly close to his skin. The second fragment seemed amused by this and gave a bitter laugh.

"You were able to survive for thirty years on your own on the other side of the portal, but now you're going to lose your life to the hatred and pain that you created in your own brother. Tough luck, ey Sixer?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Phew, chapter four got longer than we anticipated so we had to split it up. There will now be a total of six chapters to the story. We hope you enjoy!

* * *

" _Now another one bites the dust_

 _Let's be clear, I trust no one"_

 _"You did not break me_

 _I'm still fighting for peace_ "

 _'Elastic heart' - Sia_

* * *

Dread coiled nauseatingly in the pit of Stanford's gut as he stared back at a pair of feverish orange embers glinting from depths of the second fragment's searing glare. His brother's silhouette loomed menacingly before him; a disturbingly calm and immovable statue compared to the shifting, fracturing, and wavering reality of the basement around them. The man, monster, shadow, personification of Stanley's hatred, whatever he was, stood barely half an arm's length away, pressing in uncomfortably close to Stanford's trapped and hapless form like a half starved coyote closing in on it's next meal.

He offered his captive a cruel, eerily satisfied smirk before nodding his head to the side slightly. Stanford's eyes darted hard to the right to follow the implications of the gesture, nearly bulging out of their sockets as he observed the wild black flames _still_ creeping off from his brother's arm and onto the wall behind him. His heart gave an especially frantic lurch against his ribcage as the shadows flickered closer and closer to the side of his face, a sudden wave of heat washing over his cheek. The writhing blackness might as well have been real fire for the intensity of the swelter that it radiated; as white hot as molten metal, or the high noon sun on a blazing summer day. It flittered with an almost inky smoothness across the cracked surface of the glass beside Stanford, tauntingly pulling back as soon as he jerked his head away to avoid it, only to come at him again from another angle a moment later. The light reflecting off the window was gradually dimming as the shadows passed over it, its clarity becoming marred, sooty, and warped.

Stanley let out a small snicker as watched his brother's frantic struggling. "Aw Poindexter, what's the matter?" He cooed sarcastically. "You were so confident and full of yourself a few moments ago, what happened to ya? Are ya really just _that_ surprised by how suddenly the tables turned on ya? You shouldn't be. I warned ya right at the beginnin', didn't I?"

"E-Enough!" Stanford managed to grind out, his ire and panic rising in an unsteady crescendo. Forcing his expression to a determined grimace, he did his best to steel himself and remain still in spite of the torture his brother's fragment was threatening him with. It took more willpower than he'd expected not to flinch away at the black shapes squirming a mere centimeter or two from his face, but he managed to shoot a glare back at the shade, trying to combat the cruel delight of Stanley's scorching glower with own equally frigid one. Considering his current situation however, it was near impossible to put any real force behind it. The fragment apparently agreed if his condescending grin was anything to go by. After a moment of smugly staring, he did at least withdraw the shadows back up his arm and onto his own body again.

Idly, Stanford couldn't help but wonder why the man himself didn't seem to be afflicted by the caustic, destructive nature of the darkness surrounding him. The same force that had undoubtedly burned his brother's version of the Stan O' War, and altered his mindscape for the worse, now curled around the second fragment with no less toxic malice than it had used against Stanford. The only reasons for this that the older Pines twin could guess, was either because the shadows were an extension of the fragment himself and therefore didn't actually affect him, or because Stanley just outright didn't care whether or not it caused him pain. Given his brother's behavior so far, Stanford feared that the latter might be the case.

Finally letting his arm fall back to his side and taking half a step back, the shadowed man spoke again, voice low, even, and confident. "I warned ya that the greatest weapon you could have handed me was to underestimate what I'm capable of, but you just ignored me and ended up doin' exactly that, didn't ya. Ya jumped into this headfirst like I was just another one of your dumb mysteries. Ya thought you had everything under control, that you could figure me out using your own made up rules and boundaries."

Stanford couldn't help but turn his head away, attempting to avoid his brother's gaze. There was nothing that he could think to say to that. It was an accurate summation of his failure. Ever since he'd entered the nightmare realm it seemed as though he'd done nothing but misjudge and miscalculate the situation over and over again. As painful as it was to admit it to himself, Stanford just didn't know his brother well enough to deal with this kind of irrational behavior from him. He had no idea how to comfort him, what would inspire rage, or despair, or joy. A lifetime ago he'd understood his brother just as intimately as he'd understood himself, but the unhinged fragment currently taking pleasure in watching the destruction of the mindscape around them proved that Stanley had changed a lot over the past forty years. They both had.

Hopelessness started constricting around Stanford's chest, and he couldn't help but feel like he was once again being suffocated by the stringy, razor-sharp strands of a near-sentient swamp vine he'd encountered six months after first falling into the portal. His eyes darted away from the dark shadow in front of him, tearing across the chamber as he absorbed the bleak scene that had somehow happened despite his best endeavors to prevent it.

Directly across the room, the unconscious form of Stanley's third and final fragment remained strung up in the center of the portal's star carved inner ring. His form was disquietingly still, colorless, and tinted by a soft blue glow. Arms lay outstretched and tightly bound by several lengths of long dark chain. His slumped position mirrored Stanford's own popsicle stick induced captivity in an almost ironic manner, a mocking testament to his fruitless efforts to save his twin… or even just one part of him.

The older twin winced slightly before shifting his panicked gaze back over to the first fragment he'd found; the one whom he'd befriended, been charmed by, apparently misunderstood, and who'd eventually betrayed him. The child hadn't moved an inch from where he'd initially knelt amongst the debris and ruined toys on the burnt floor just before the wreckage of the portal. The paper with their handprints stamped onto it, green and red, five and six fingered, Stanford and Stanley, lay crumpled and forgotten beside the boy while his hands had moved up to clamp tightly over his ears. His forlorn sobbing echoed dully around the wooden hull of the ship.

The smirk plastered on the second fragment's face morphed into something a little less pleased, and a little more vindictive, as he followed his brother's gaze for a moment. His burning eyes shot back over to Stanford barely a heartbeat later. "But I don't play by your rules." He murmured heatedly. "This part of the mindscape is mine, and these other two are pieces of me. You never stood a chance coming down here into the basement."

Stanley gave the boy behind him a look that his brother couldn't quite read; an odd mix of spiteful and pitying as he seemed to mull something over. "I can tell ya firsthand, from all the long and far too quiet nights I spent kneelin' in front'a that monstrosity you created, like pipsqueak's doin' right now, _this_ is where hope comes to die. It doesn't matter how long ya wait, or how desperately ya want to believe that things will one day be alright again. They won't be. Sunlight doesn't reach this far underground, and if it ever looks like it does, then you can count on a punch to the face correcting your faulty vision." The second fragment's gaze slid back over to Stanford, and he grinned at his brother as though he'd just told an awful joke.

"I was originally plannin' on using the remainder of this energy I ripped from Bill to take you out for good." He continued, a scoffing arrogance coloring his tone again. "But now, it looks like I won't even have to resort to that. Huh."

Stanford didn't answer his twin immediately. He could hear another sound creeping into awareness as he listened to the fragment's boasting; a foreboding rumble echoing somewhere off in the distance. "No…" Stanford balked, realizing that they were out of time. The whispered roaring grew until it reverberated in his chest, a deep chaotic thrum that matched Stanford's own wildly beating heart, the tell-tale sign of the mindscape's utter destruction. After a moment the shuddering tapered off, and the light within the basement dimmed till the blue glow of the portal was once again the main source of illumination for the chamber.

Yet, the shadow of his brother stood before him, unconcerned, unyielding, and appearing almost at home in the darkness. The orange glow of his eyes blazed in an inferno of animosity that shed some small light on the rest of his features. Despite a slightly fatigued posture from the previous fight, there was no give in his expression. The same cold sneer he'd worn when the older Pines twin had first truly spied him in the waking lights of the half activated portal was still fixed firmly in place.

Stanford cautiously and subtly tugged his arms, trying to get a sense of what it would take for him to escape, and how quickly he'd be able to do it before Stanley's second fragment would take notice. It was doable, he concluded, wincing slightly as his coat made a small tearing noise and another popsicle stick clattered to the ground. Due to his earlier struggles, he had just enough wiggle room to make a break for it if he chose. But more importantly, it made Stanford realize something else. He had a sense that the younger Stanley hadn't truly wished to hurt him. The attack had been halfhearted at best, simply pinning him to the wall rather than actually skewering him like he very well could have; like the shadowed version of his brother probably would have held no reservations against doing.

Despite the second fragment's persuasions, the first obviously wasn't completely on board with this. And then there was the matter of that last one as well, whatever _he_ was supposed to represent. Stanford still had a chance of getting out of this if he could just… well, if he could understand what was going on in his twin's head then maybe…

An irate sigh hissed out through Stanford's clenched teeth. Trying to find the part of his brother that contained his reason and desire for self-preservation wasn't the only tricky part (He desperately hoped that it wasn't the currently unconscious one, though, given his luck so far today, it honestly wouldn't have surprised him if it was). If it wasn't enough that Stanford had to contend with the three fragments being the furthest thing from cooperative at the moment, there was still the issue of escaping, or communicating with the other two, without drawing the attention of the dark figure before him. Given the way the man was currently eyeing him, hostility practically dripping from his wide grin, Stanford had the feeling that if he tried to escape now he would only end up in an even worse predicament. Fighting this piece of his brother seemed like a monumental waste of time as well. Even if Stanford did manage to whittle down his energy again, there was still the implied threat of Stanely using Bill's power, and that was worrying him.

Though he may have been wrong in assuming that his twin's behavior was being directly caused by that energy, Stanford knew better than to simply dismiss it as unimportant, regardless of what the second fragment was claiming. He'd seen situations like this on more than one occasion while traveling the multiverse. Demonic energy of this kind couldn't simply be used without grave and serious consequence if it didn't naturally belong to the wielder. It just was too chaotic, overpowering, and maddening for mortal hands. Sometimes, it had lead to the death of the user. Sometimes, it had ended up changing them in ways that were even worse than death.

Stanford took a deep breath before locking his stare once more with the pair of orange pinpricks burning into the eyes of the shadow before him. He forced himself to remain still and unmoved, desperately trying to inject some rational leverage to calm the terror slowly threatening his mind. After all, there was really no other way around this. Due to the possibility of Stanley calling upon that power, he couldn't have risked getting into another fight even if the mindscape hadn't been currently coming apart all around them. As impossible as the task seemed, there was no way he was going to get out of this mental recreation of the basement without talking some sense into this part of his brother first.

"Stanley, you have to fuse back together," Stanford tried again, his voice coming out a little more unsteady than he would have liked it to. "Please! You can't really want this!"

Stanley shot the chaos around him an appreciative look, seemingly disinterested in twin's pleading. "Mmm. Actually, I think I do want this."

The older twin gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to gather thoughts. "I… I don't understand this," He finally admitted, gazing back up at his brother after a moment to study the man closely. What was he missing? "Any of this. You're a part of my brother, so why are you so set on destroying him? How can you possibly hate yourself enough to want to end him? You _are_ him!"

A smile flashed between the flickering shadows as their owner gave a small chuckle, and he shook his head in bemusement at Stanford's question. "Well, it's just like everyone always said, right?"

Stanford startled when he heard a deep gruff voice echo through the mindscape, one he hadn't heard in decades, and it brought with it a myriad of memories, mostly unpleasant. _"The kid's a loser. He's weak. I just want to get rid of him."_

Before the echoes of Filbrick's voice even died away, another one took its place. _"That clown_? At _this rate he'll be lucky to graduate high school. Look, there's a saltwater taffy store on the dock…"_ Stanford winced, knowing what was coming next, remembering the acute shame he felt as he remained silent, too afraid to speak on behalf of his brother. _"…And somebody's gotta get paid to scrape the barnacles off of it. Stanford's goin' places. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you'll have one son here in New Jersey forever."_

A jarring thought occurred to Stanford. If Stanley had summoned these recollections then… The older twin felt his heart sink. It…it meant that Stanley had overheard every single disparaging word spoken about him in the principal's office that fateful day. It was no wonder he'd been in such low spirits when the two of them had talked later on the beach. Forty years ago Stanford hadn't understood why his brother had looked at him through the chain links of the swing set like a drowning man looks at a life-raft floating away from him. If he had known then, he… he would have done things differently. Wouldn't he have?

The voice of their high school principal fell silent, and then as Stanford slumped slightly in relief thinking it was over, another voice rose through the depths of the mindscape. One that was furious, tired, at its wit's end, and a little too painfully familiar. _"I'm selfish? I'm selfish, Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school?! I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!"_ Stanford's eyes darted remorsefully to the ground, a sudden panging guilt in his gut making it difficult to breathe. The fabric of the coat under his right arm, bunched up and tugging at his shoulder due to the position of one of the popsicle sticks, was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

"See Ford?" Stanley's gruff voice was unusually subdued, and even the writhing shadows surrounding him had slowed to a dull twitching. Yet his eyes, his eyes were ignited even brighter than before, searing into Stanford with a pure loathing that caused his heart to miss a beat. "Everyone else knows that he's just a _loser_ , a _clown_ , _worthless_. So why should I think any differently?"

"Stanley, you can't really-

"But I guess being as perfect as ya are, you've never really had any reason to hate part of yourself before." The fragment interrupted without missing a beat. "So I can see why this whole situation must seem pretty messed up to ya.

"You realize that you're talking to the person who's been labeled a 'six fingered freak' ever since we were kids," Stanford shot back bitterly, his own ire rising to the surface again. "Don't be ridiculous, Stanley. I'm far from perfect and I've made plenty of mistakes in my life; mistakes that cost more than you can imagine." Something unbidden rose to the back of his mind. Dark, ceaseless nights of paranoia. Fear and regret. Poison yellow eyes, and the complete loss of control that he'd carefully avoided thinking about, that he'd vowed to never repeat. Meticulously making sure every action and thought was planned, structured, controlled. The teasing voices of children all round him, laughing at him, mocking him. He was abnormal, a freak, he didn't belong with them. No, he was special, he was better than them! No! H-he was…

Stanford shook his head as though dispelling an old and habitual nightmare, his breathing a little harder than he would've cared to admit. Stanley had an odd look on his face and was watching him like a hawk. For the first time, the fragment seemed actually interested in the man before him, head tilted to the side in an almost curious manner. Stanford offered the man a scowl in response before quickly and efficiently squelched the intruding dark thoughts, pushing them to the back of his mind where they belonged. No, no, he wasn't going to let his emotions get the better of him; not because of Stanley's gloating fragment, and especially because he needed to keep his wits about him now more than ever. He pressed onwards, trying to get his point across to this version of his brother. "…O-Of course I've suffered from regret and maybe the occasional bout of self-hatred before, but this is-"

"Excessive?!" Stanley interrupted sharply, his erratic mood seeming to take another nosedive. "Yeah, well tell that to him, not me." The man's menacing smile completely dropped off from his face, and even the burning embers of his eyes dimmed slightly as he turned his head back to glance at the near lifeless form of the third fragment. "In the end, I'm only giving him what he wants; what he's asked for."

"W-what do mean by that?!"

Stanley was still turned toward his chained counterpart, the soft blue light of the portal outlining his dark silhouette and casting Stanford into shadow behind him. While the older twin could clearly see the odd tension coiling in the man's shoulders, along with the throbbing orange sigil that set his teeth on edge, he couldn't read the expression on his brother's face. After an uncomfortable pause, the fragment reluctantly spoke again. "He's a whole lot stronger than me. You realize that, right?" His voice was the softest Stanford had heard it, and the darkness curled around his form in a way that the older twin might have claimed looked irritated if he'd thought shadows capable of expressing emotion. "I'm not the one actually in charge around here. If I were, I guarantee you that I would've ran our life a _lot_ differently."

"And what exactly does that have to do with anything?" Stanford asked quietly after the fragment didn't continue.

Stanley gave a small huff before turning back around and raising a mocking eyebrow at his twin. "Hmm. You really haven't realized what _he_ is yet? Some genius you are. How exactly did ya end up with twelve PhD's again? Did ya bribe a few of your professors or something?"

Stanford felt indignation rise up at the offhand insinuation. "Oh, don't act as though this has anything to do with intelligence!" He snapped. "This whole time you've been doing nothing but-" He growled and quickly and cut himself off. Letting out a small sigh through his nose, Stanford managed to reign in his anger somewhat, reminding himself of their current situation. He'd already screwed things up with the only fragment that had acted civilly towards him, and losing his temper with this one was just going to make things worse. Taking a deep breath, Stanford swallowed some of his pride before lowering his voice once again. "I… Please. I don't… don't understand you. Just please, explain it to me."

The second fragment rolled his eyes, and dramatically crossed his arms. "Ya know, I can't say it really surprises me that the only time you're willing to listen to what I have to say is when you've pretty much exhausted all other options. This is exactly why ya ended up losing the kid over to me." He sent a condescending glance to the huddled fragment still curled up and crying on the ground. "When it comes to you, there's always gonna be some sorta crisis, or research, or inconvenient timing, or whatever else that's gonna take a higher priority than what he feels; but you can only sideline a heart for so long before it starts ignorin' you back." Stanley gave a small snicker, arrogance practically radiating from his voice as he stared pointedly at his brother. "See though, unlike him I already knew that you were full of it from the beginning. Ya wanna know how?"

The mindscape around them gave another small tremor, ominous cracking echoing like thunder somewhere up in the darkness above them. Stanford bit his tongue and ignored it, attention focused instead on humoring the fragment before him. "How?"

The man smirked and jerked his thumb back to gesture to his injured counterpart. "It's 'cause out of all of us, you're the most like _him_. Just like you, he thinks he's _so_ smart and cunning; that he's so good at foolin' everyone around him. Lyin' about his identity to his own family. Keepin' the portal a secret for thirty years. Trickin' you and Bill 'bout his real intentions with that deal…"

Stanley trailed off and shot a dark look back at the other fragment. His expression morphed into one of almost revulsion and his tone became subdued. It was as though he was talking more to himself now than his captive brother. "He's the one who calls alllll the shots 'round here. Me and Pipsqueak can squabble 'till we're blue in the face, but _that_ guy is the one who has the final say. And more often than not, he sides with that blubberin' kid, unless we're bleedin' on the ground. And _then_ suddenly, oh, _then_ he'll listen to me." The fragment snarled as he mocked. "Says _he's_ the one who knows what's best out of all of us, but if he's really so great, then why does he keep making it so that we suffer, huh? It's always _'oh, we gotta prioritize the kids'_ , or ' _oh, we gotta prioritize Stanford'_ , or _'oh, we gotta throw ourself into the rift and sacrifice our life to save everyone else'_. Him and his goddam martyr complex, it pisses me off!"

Stanford smiled a little internally, satisfied that he was getting straight answers now and at least making some form of progress. Even if it was only gathering information about the three, it was obviously information that he needed given how badly he'd misunderstood his brother so far. "The way you've described him," Stanford continued questioning with interest. "am I to assume that the last third of you is meant to represent my brother's decision making and relative sense of morality? If that's the case, then what in the world makes you think that he wants to be destroyed?"

The fragment scowled at Stanford and let out an angry scoff. "Did you really not hear a word I just said!? Or is it that you haven't figured out what _I_ am yet."

The older twin raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd already cleared that up. You're a scar, right."

A strange look passed across Stanley's blazing eyes that his brother couldn't quite read, and he gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "Hm. There's a difference between what I've become, and what _I am_. Tell me something Sixer, out of the three of us, who do you think is actually the most concerned with self-preservation." He gestured vaguely to his child counterpart. "The part that gets all weepy and upset whenever someone reminds him of what a pathetic little failure he is?" He nudged his chin in the direction of the man hanging in the portal. "The part that's always throwing us into danger for whatever stupid justifications he comes up with?" He brought his gaze back to Stanford to look at him pointedly. "Or is it the part that's selfish. The part that's most concerned with fulfilling our goals and making our life worthwhile. The only part that's capable of feeling a true and burning desire to exist in spite of the world around us, and what _it_ wants." The shadowed man sharply pointed at his other two fragments. " _I_ kept us alive in spite of _his_ reckless efforts to do us in. _I_ kept us going when all the kid wanted to do was lie down and give up."

Stanford's brows furrowed as he digested this information, feeling more confused than ever and beyond frustrated with this portion of his brother. "But if you're meant to represent Stanley's will to live, then your actions make even less sense! Why are you trying to destroy him?!"

That comment apparently struck a nerve. Stanley's eyes sparkled brightly as he glared down at his twin, anger suddenly spiking to a fever pitch. The shadows around him flared as though they were a pitch black fire being hit by a fresh burst of air.

"BECAUSE HE KEEPS SCREWING US OVER!" The fragment roared so loudly that his voice nearly cracked at the end. "His entire life has just been one mistake and regret after another ever since highschool, and I have to live with the burden of a wasted existence on _my_ shoulders every goddamn day! Ya think this is how I wanted things to turn out? Do ya really think this is anywhere close? It isn't, but _he_ fought me tooth and nail the whole way. For all that people will claim Stanley Pines to be selfish and uncarin', the fact of that matter is that he's ended up spending _his entire life_ trying to satisfy other people; whether it was our old man, or whether it was you. Well, ya know what? I'm done. I've got no problem fighting against the world if I have to. Even if our parents, and you, and everyone else in the whole universe looks at him and thinks he's just worthless garbage, I can still stand up and keep going just to spite you all! But I'm done fighting against myself! He's decided that our well being isn't worth shit? He wants to us suffer because apparently everyone else's wants take priority over our own? Then I'll give him _exactly_ what he's asked for!"

Stanford looked away and swallowed slightly, stunned by the intensity of the outburst. When he spoke again after an uncomfortable minute of soul searching, his question was barely more than a whisper. He knew in his heart of hearts the answer he would receive when he asked it, but he dreaded hearing it all the same. A part of him was still trying desperately to deny all of this.

"Is that why you… When you threw yourself into the rift like that to stop Bill, was that a… a-"

"A suicide?" The second fragment finished, his unsettling wrath apparently fading as quickly as it had come leaving him looking very worn and very tired. He grimaced and offered an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. "His main concern was protecting his family and making sure that they were kept safe. But, yeah, I guess there was a little more behind our decision than just self-sacrifice. When you don't have much of a tomorrow to look forward to in the first place, giving up your life for a 'greater good' becomes almost effortless."

Stanley's gaze slid away again to his first fragment. The child's continued weeping had petered out for now, leaving his huddled form impossibly still and small looking compared to the rest of the dark chamber. The shadowed man's voice lowered even further as though he was trying to avoid being overheard. "After all, what does he even have to go back to after this? Well, I mean besides just fading away as a forgotten, unloved, homeless grifter." He gave a small snicker, glancing over to Stanford as though sharing a private joke. "Just let 'em both sleep for all eternity I say."

"No…" Stanford softly denied, failing to keep an edge of horror from slipping into his voice. "Why would you-No!" A heavy stone was settling somewhere in his gut, and it warred with the energetic desperation that had remained a constant companion since he'd first watched Stanley ascend into the rift with Bill. The older twin hung his head, eyes shining in an almost dejected anger as he stared blankly at the blackened planks below. The iridescent glint of the burnt ship offered him no comfort.

His brother's fragment remained silent, and after allowing himself a few moments to try and vainly collect himself, Stanford raised his head to look back at him. The silhouette was as rigid and inert as a stone onyx statue, the fire in his eyes dimmed and darkened. Even the shadows seemed to have stilled their unsettled swaying.

Stanford pushed himself slightly off from the wall to glare at the man, and a few more popsicle sticks fell out and clattering to the burnt ground below. "Stanley, I came here to save you!" He shouted, dread seeping into his sharp tone."I understand how things might be a little rough for you right now. A lot of your- _our_ present circumstances have changed rather quickly. But you can't just let it end like this! Please, _please_ pull yourself back together so we can get out of here!"

Stanley's second fragment offered no reply, save to narrow his eyes a fraction. The sparks of energy in that lay therein flared up again for few seconds, but it wasn't enough to give away whatever shadowed expression had formed on his face.

Stanford drew in a breath, and tried again, his voice beginning to break at the edges. "I… I'm begging you. I don't want to lose you again. Plea-"

A loud crack to his left cut him short and caused his heart to skip a beat as Stanley closed the distance between them, his curled, shaking fist now imbedded into the wooden wall a few centimeters away from Stanford's head. His brother's eyes were wild and glowing fully now, his lips pulled back into a feral snarl. "And what makes ya think that you get a say in it, huh?!" he bellowed. "You gave up your right to ask somethin' like that of me a long, _long_ time ago! The kid was the only one here who might've actually given a damn about what _you_ want. I really couldn't care less."

The fragment glared at Stanford for another second and his mouth curled into a bitter grin, obviously finding his twin's tight-lipped discomfort amusing. He removed his fist from the wall. A stream of black splinters trailed in the air off from his knuckles before glitching out and disappearing completely. The shadowed man shook his head as he retreated a few steps, keeping his expression hidden from Stanford before outright throwing his head back in a disturbingly unhinged, barking laugh. He gestured to the silent fragment suffering in the portal behind him, eyes blazing wildly. "Besides," He declared, voice rising an octave. "As far as I'm concerned this was the final straw! He's made it clear that he's already given up! He isn't really interested in living anymore!"

Stanford gritted his teeth and tried to lock eyes with the second fragment, more than a little alarmed by his abrupt change in mood."N-No, you're wrong." He denied frantically. "I can still see some color on him. He hasn't faded completely into the mindscape yet. Stanley, it's not too late. We can still fix this!"

Stanford yelped as he was roughly grabbed by the collar of his turtleneck sweater. Still pinned tightly to the wall, he was pulled forward by the second fragment just enough so that his body was painfully arched, his shoulders popping and the muscles in his back spasming with the strain. The older twin could do little more than stare fearfully into his brother's eyes for a few long moments, too caught off guard by the abrupt brutality to react properly. His heart nearly skipped a beat gazing into those pitch black pupils. The coiled hatred searing within their depths was nearly palpable, and the man himself seemed to be growing more deranged and unstable by the minute.

"Fix this, huh." Stanley rasped darkly. Stanford gasped, his shoulders giving an agonizing creak as his brother drew him forward another inch.

But as he was brought closer, there was… something else that the older twin couldn't help but notice simmering there underneath the wrath. Something between frustration and misery. Something that, if he'd seen it on any other creature, Stanford might have guessed to be a form of despair or hopelessness.

Or even surrender.

"Why do you hate yourself?" Stanford muttered, barely aware that he'd voiced the question out loud at all.

"What?" Stanley quickly mocked. "Ya want me to list the reasons out for ya or something? Didn't we already go over this?" Despite the clear annoyance of his tone, the fragment's grip on his brother's collar loosened somewhat, and the wildness of his snarl became more reserved.

Going on a gut feeling, flexing a long forgotten muscle he hadn't used in over forty years, Stanford pressed onward. "I'm not asking why you think other people hate you," he said softly. "I'm asking why… why you hate you."

The shadowed man studied his twin carefully, skeptically, and for moment Stanford was afraid that the fragment would simply dismiss his request. His fears were proven untrue when Stanley released his collar, and his gruff voice began grinding out of his throat like an old rusty machine a few seconds later.

"Ya really wanna know so bad, well fine then. I'll tell ya why. I hate him for not bein' able to prove to everyone that he wasn't just a worthless parasite. I hate him for giving up on Pipsqueak's dreams in order to impress his awful family, and for failing to make enough money to please 'em anyways."

As he spoke the shadows around him began to expand ominously, rippling like pieces of string caught in a whirlwind.

"I hate him for the fact that he forgave ya, and went running to ya when ya called, even though you'd abandoned him for more than a decade. I hate him for not noticin' how close you'd gotten to the portal when he pushed ya, and for taking so long to bring ya back. I hate him for not bein' able to protect the kids and Soos better, for endangering 'em because of all this apocalypse mess."

They stretched onto the ground, condensing together to form a number of sinister claw-like shapes. Stanford watched in a sort of fascinated horror as they raced across the ground, fluidly navigating through the splintering black boards of the Stan O' War towards the portal's ruined frame.

"I hate him for wasting thirty years of his life on a poor excuse 'f a brother like you. I hate him for the fact that he's willing to give ya _everythin_ ', his house, his business, his life in this town, all without a fight just because _you_ asked for it. But most of all… most of all, I hate that he keeps letting us get hurt, again and again, and again…"

The collection of slender black arms snaked upwards over the silver metal, each twisting around one of the lengths of chains that bound the unconscious fragment. A cruel smile stretched onto Stanley's face as he finished his rant, and he slowly, deliberately, began to clench his hand into a tight fist.

Stanford watched for a tense moment, perplexed, and then a dismayed gasp of realization escaped him. Before he could even cry out in protest, the chains around the strung up man brutally constricted, causing the crack on his chest to suddenly burst open wider and his broken body to spasm with pain. Bright orange liquid splattered wildly onto the ruins and rubble below as the telltale, sharp cracking of broken bones rang out in the chamber around them. A moan of anguish tore from the third fragment's throat, which morphed into a scream of utter torment as the chains continued to tighten.

Nausea and dread clogged Stanford's insides, and a part of him wanted to plug his ears against the harrowing sounds, but more deeply, more desperately, he wanted to put a _stop_ to the abhorrent scene. Before he even quite knew what he was doing he found himself thrashing against the popsicle sticks that bound him, trying to free himself like a rabbit caught in a trap. The small noise wood clattering on wood sounded from below him and joined his grunts of frustration as he loosened a couple more in his struggle.

Oddly enough, Stanley didn't seem all that bothered by his twin's attempts at freedom. He merely shook his head in disgust as and lowered his hand slightly, watching as both Stanford and his own counterpart continued to squirm. "It's pathetic. He brought all of this pain upon ourself. He _keeps_ bringing it upon ourself. I'm just doin' us a favor by finally putting him out of his misery for good." An arrogant, spiteful smile returned to the second fragment's face, the wildness of it mirroring the aura of the writhing midnight shadows stretching out behind him. "Besides," his tone abruptly changed to cruel and teasing. "I'd rather die before I have anything to do with that worthless loser again. So I guess that gives us some common ground, ay Stanford."

Stanley raised his hand slowly and mockingly over his head before squeezing his fist closed again. The shadows twitched like agitated worms before reacting accordingly, and the chains encircling his suffering counterpart's powerless form tightened for a second time. An excruciatingly shrill scream reverberated throughout the hollow chamber, the sound of it seeming to cling sickenly to wooden walls surrounding them.

Stanford couldn't help but cry out as well, stricken as though a spear had run through his heart, and he turned himself away from the ruthless torture. It didn't matter if man chained in the portal was only a fragment of his twin, he was still _part_ of Stanley's soul, and Stanford could no longer just watch his brother tear himself apart.

"P-please stop that," he shouted helplessly, increasing his exertions to free himself and end the madness before him. "Stop doing that to yourself! Stop hurting yourself! Stanley, you-"

His pleading words were abruptly cut off as Stanley's eyes erupted with an almost murderous scorching light, brighter than Stanford had ever previously seen it, brighter than the blue glow of the portal; twin sets of savage orange suns. The shadows thrashing about his form suddenly burst outward like expansive black wings, almost completely filling the crumbling ruins of the ship with twisting flames as pitch dark as the nightmare realm.

The entirety of the mindscape gave a colossal, horrific shudder, wood cracking and breaking all around them. Entire patches of the floor flickered away, and light and shadows bent unnaturally in the hull of the ship. Stanford saw the small child fragment of Stanley curl up even tighter within himself. His muffled sobbing picked up again, more loud and desperate than ever, tearing into the older twin's heart.

It was then, blinking through a haze of soot and black cinders, that a realization finally slammed into Stanford. It was powerful enough to leave him breathless, and turn his blood frigid. The first time the mindscape had started crumbling was when the younger fragment had first doubted Stanford's intentions in saving him. The second, when he'd refused to give his brother a straight answer about the Stan O' War. The third, when the second fragment had first become upset. The pattern was undeniable.

He'd been wrong. This entire time, he had been wrong about why the mindscape was falling apart in the first place. He'd taken for granted that the condition of this reality might be in any way related to his brother's current mental status, but now that he added it in, their predicament started to make a disturbing amount of sense. This pocket wasn't falling to ruin because he and his brother's mindscapes couldn't simultaneously coexist in the same space, of course not. He himself had met several hive-minded creatures before while traveling the multiverse, and they certainly had no problem accessing the mindscape. No, this world was breaking apart because…. because Stanley's mind was ripping itself into pieces. And since they were both here together, he was taking Stanford with him to oblivion.

"SHUT UP! What right do you have to tell me that?! Huh!" The older twin was brought out of his despairing musings by the dark fragment heatedly addressing his previous question. Stanley's voice seemed to be somehow carrying clearly over the near deafening rumble of the degrading mindscape around them. "After what you've done to him, after the way you treated him for all these years, hearing _you_ tell me not to hurt him is a joke! Ya think that what _I'm_ doing to him is bad? Well you've already done far worse than that! Oh, the scars I could show you; the scars that _you_ carved into us!"

With a savage snarl, Stanley drew back his left fist, the whole arm shaking with barely restrained rage. "And now," He declared glaring at his brother in overwhelming hatred. "now I'm gonna do the thing that he never had the guts to try. I'm gonna return the favor!"

Stanford's mind flashed to years ago- boxing lessons and playful sparring. Chalky powder hanging in beams of sunlight over the matt. Bandages wrapped around his wrists. A nervous stomach. His brother laughing with genuine joy as he decked some bully that had teased them in the face. The smell of sweat, iron, and blood. Their father yelling at them from the sidelines to put their arms up to block before one of them got a black eye.

 _"Remember to duck and weave kid. You don't have the muscle to go toe to toe with some of the bigger fella's here. If you try to take them head on, you'll lose. Badly. Boxing isn't always about knocking your opponent out cold. Sometimes, you just need to last through to the final round."_

Stanford gave a final tremendous squirm, breaking himself from his popsicle stick prison and barely managed to get free in time. He stumbled, falling hard onto the shaking ground, and heard a sharp crack as the glass where his head had just been a few seconds ago was shattered by Stanley's fist.

Stanford stared up at the shadowy figure towering over him in horror, completely transfixed. Even the constant blue light from the portal was starting to flicker out, and the darkness around them was quickly becoming absolute and all-consuming. The older twin could barely distinguish the outline of his brother in the wavering pitch. The fiery glow from his eyes and brand were now the only light-source able to reliably illuminate him, and his vehement gaze of judgment fixated chillingly upon Stanford.

Was it a trick of the eye, or was the brand… growing in size? Yes, Stanford confirmed to himself upon looking it over again, there was no mistaking it. The symbol was without a doubt becoming larger right before his own eyes. It was gradually creeping, spreading like a sickness, and now was beginning to shine over Stanley's shoulder.

The fragment growled, low and vicious, before removing his fist from the shattered window and swiftly turning to advance upon his twin. "You! You abandoned him when he needed you most! You turned your back on him for a stupid school! Did you think I would ever forgive you for that?! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE US FOREVER!"

Stanford frantically scrambled backward trying to get enough leverage to stand, but his right foot caught on one of the numerous debris or smashed toys, in the darkness he couldn't tell which, just as he forced himself upright. He lost his footing instantly, and a moment later he was sent sprawling back on the ground. Stanley closed the distance between them effortlessly, delivering a savage kick to his brother's stomach upon their meeting, causing the air to be knocked from the older twin's lungs. The force of the attack sent him rolling across the quaking ground. He could feel the skin of his face scratching against unseen rubble. Finally, Stanford's body was brought to a halt by an angled piece of a broken beam, and he gasped as his arms tenderly clutched at his stomach in pain. But the fragment didn't give him even a moment to catch his breath before assailing him again almost immediately, railing on his body with the relentless fury of a shark in bloodied water.

Stanford put his arms up to defend himself, but it hardly did any good as the nearly invisible punches from his brother struck him from the darkness. Desperately, he tried to focus his mind enough to conjure up some sort of defense. A glowing circular shield materialized in front of him and offered him the opportunity to get back on his feet, but it did little to slow the relentless fury of Stanley's attack. Stanford grunted, trying to hold the shield steady as it cracked under the shadowy fists pummeling into it. Then the orange symbol crawling over this twin's shoulder flashed even brighter, and he was once again thrown backward as the shield exploded under the unforgiving brute force of the man's powerful left hook. Stanford fell to the bombardment of punches, raising his arms over his head, trying in vain to defend himself against the seemingly unstoppable rage of the fragment.

"He gave everything for you!" Stanley ground out through clenched teeth. "He _keeps_ giving everything for you! And not once have you. Ever. Given. Anything. Back!" For each word, Stanford felt pain crash into his face, a blow against his raised arms, a kick to his chest… "All you do is bleed _us_ dry!"

Stanford forced himself to stand against the painful barrage, each hit forcing him back another step. "Stanley, please stop! This isn't you," he beseeched through his gasps of pain. Something desperate and determined flared within his chest, allowing him to cling to his resolve. To not to give up. To somehow reach through to his brother. _I have to save him_. "I know that you don't really want to kill us both!"

"The hell I don't! Don't You DARE tell us how we're supposed to feel! You've NEVER cared about how we really felt!" The top of the symbol was now creeping up his neck, trying to take root on the lower portion of his jaw.

"That's not – I…" Stanford stumbled back, mouth opening and closing almost comically as he struggled to form a coherent rebuttal, but nothing came to mind immediately. It was hard to think with those vibrant eyes searing into him like a pair white hot coals dropped into a bank of snow; with his own heartbeat pounding nearly deafeningly in his ears and drowning out every other thought in his head. In an unconscious desperation, Stanford's eyes darted away from the towering shadow of the man before him, and over to the boy still huddled over and kneeling next to the ruined remains of the portal. The small shuddering curve of the child's back was barely visible at all through the near non-existent blue light. Silvery ash and black soot swirled in the air around them like drops of colored ink in a whirlpool. Stanford could do nothing but stare blankly for a moment or two. It was stunning, how small and insignificant Stanley's first fragment appeared in comparison to the chaos all around them. And yet, it was his choice, and his alone, his _feelings_ , that had seemed to cause it all.

Stanford's shoulders started slumping, arms lowering from their defensive positions as realization incrementally and uncomfortably dawned on him. A lump lodged itself in his throat that he couldn't quite swallow down. Something was cracking within him, slowly unraveling at its seams. Attempting in vain to regain his composure, he let out a frustrated growl before allowing his sharp, and now slightly wavering, gaze to slip back over to the second fragment's menacing silhouette.

"Maybe… maybe you're right in some respects." Stanford relented after a moment, wincing slightly at how raspy and soft his voice had come out. "Maybe I haven't cared as much as I should have." He started struggling to his feet again, eyes darting dizzyingly between the three fragments before settling on the nearest and staring at him, imploring, trying to get him to see reason. "But _I do care_ , Stanley. I… I do."

Stanley stalked toward him again, taking no heed of the words, his eyes dimming slightly, though it made him no less menacing. Stanford stumbled backward until he suddenly slammed into something cold and unforgiving. His eyes darted to the side to see the dim silver frame of the portal. "Yeah. Right. Ya really will say _anything_ to get me to fuse back with my other selves and save your own skin, won't ya? But how 'bout you try not to pick such an obvious lie next time, eh? Like I was saying before, ya aren't very good at it. Though, I wish that there were a way to get ya to just leave and let us die here in peace."

Stanley raised his fist to once again start his vicious onslaught, but it came to a sudden halt midair making Stanford blink in confusion. His head tilted to the side, staring at him with unreadable glowing orange eyes. He seemed to be taking a thought into consideration. Then he gave Stanford an odd look, the visceral rage on his face, melting away into something more subdued.

"I'll tell you what. If you want a doorway out of here, then I'll go ahead and help imagine one for you right here, right now. You can be out of here and on your merry way within a matter of moments, huh. How does that sound?"

Out of everything Stanford had expected him to say, that was near the bottom of the list. He gritted his teeth and glared as a sudden surge of formless grief and blinding frustration squeezed his heart, and caused unbidden tears to well up in his eyes."No," he whispered.

Stanley's entire body twitched as if an insect had stung him, and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. Stanford swallowed hard, but held firm. "I… I followed you into the nightmare realm. I cracked open the entryway into the dreamscape to get you free. I'm not leaving you behind Stanley." Stanford glanced over to the small shivering form curled up on the ground. "I told the younger version of you that I wasn't going to abandon you, and I meant every word of it."

Dark wrath once again flared up onto Stanley's features, and in response, the shadows in the room thrashed spastically around them. The mindscape groaned, and the ceiling cracked sending rubble crashing down over to their left in a massive pile. Stanley's whole body shook with fury, but when he spoke his voice was eerily quiet, contained.

"Just go, Sixer. Leave us to die," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Go away. Take your house back. Take your name back. Take your life back."

A pressure that had been rising within his chest since the moment he entered the nightmare realm, pressing against his heart as it built like a high tide, finally cracked and burst. Stanford took a step toward him, eyes wet and shining."I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the strain of his warring emotions.

Stanley stumbled away from him, eyes widening for the first time in what could only be utter shock. Then he gave a harsh snarl, and paced warily in front of Stanford while pointing an accusing finger at him. "SHUT UP!" Stanley screamed back, matching Stanford's intensity. They both stood and stared at one another, panting and fatigued, but neither one willing to back down. Stanley regarded his twin with a ferocious expression, but now there was something else there… a guarded caution. His body was tensed and wary, no longer holding the easy confidence from before.

Then his brand flared like the sun, intensely vivid with ire, and Stanford watched helplessly as the symbol stretched to the point where it was partly obscuring Stanley's face. Slowly, the fragment began to step toward him, each footfall radiating a threatening energy, but Stanford held his ground. When he spoke his voice once again started off with that chilling quiet tone of restrained fury.

"Ya may be able to trick the pipsqueak with your fake sincerity, but don't think for a moment that you can fool me!" Yet, the more he ranted on, the more his voice became unrestrained, wild, vengeful, building up to a deep yell. " _Unlike him, I don't try and sugar coat the past!_ "

Then Stanley stopped in his tracks, his body trembling as if in pain. The glow from his eyes shone brighter and brighter with fury. And suddenly, they were extinguished. His vistage was plunged into pitch blackness, blending the fragment seamlessly with the dark of the chamber.

"I. Remember. E͖̘̭ ̺͕V̦ ͚̩̝̥͇E ͇͔̜͉̮R̯͍͇ ̮͓̮̳Y͇̭̝͕̙̞ ̬̲͓͔̖͙Ṱ̯̰͚̯͇̣ ̥̩̖̟H͍̫̰̦͓̙ ͕̣̦͕̠I ̲N̦̟̹ ̬G̤̥̻͚̪̠̲!"

His shout crescendoed into a deafening roar, and the orange glow erupted back to life in a flash, blinding Stanford. The mindscape responded in kind by giving off its own violent tremble, tearing debris off the structure of the Stan O'War. Stanford couldn't help but cry out as the floor beneath him melted into ash. He tried to gain footing, but he was caught fast in it. The splintering remains of the ship disintegrated into charcoal colored sand, and as his gaze flitted around in a frantic bewilderment, the basement transformed almost unrecognizably before Stanford's eyes.

Surreal as it was to experience, it seemed as though the heart of his brother's mindscape was being transposed to a monochrome beach, one that stretched out for eternity in either direction. A dull thundering of ocean waves to Stanford's right caught his attention, and he turned his head slightly to look upon a rolling, churning, expansive pitch-black mass, highlighted and outlined by streaks of shimmering silver foam. Unnerved, his eyes slowly trailed up away from the water to stare at the stormy grey nothingness of the distant horizon, and the eerie bleached emptiness beyond. The shoreline gave another tremble and lurched beneath Stanford, interrupting him from his surprised daze. He tried to steady himself to regain his footing, but entire chunks of ground were now crumbling completely away. The sky itself was beginning to crack as though it were an egg, a near blinding whiteness cutting between the patches of the hazy atmosphere.

The portal lay like the bony, flesh stripped carcass of a beached whale within the shallows of the broiling grimy sea. Stanford could barely see the figure of the fragment still hanging within it's ceaselessly staring eye. Black inky waves ebbed and flowed around the small child-like version of his brother sitting slightly closer to the beach. The water was nearly covering him completely, but the boy didn't seem to notice or even want to acknowledge the sheer destruction around him. His desolate sobbing was lost to the cacophony of noise, and he covered his ears tighter, rocking back and forth.

The bright sigil was now devouring the second fragment hungrily, spreading a little more before giving a rageful pulse. Stanford watched in terror as the light from the third fragment's chest dimmed like a lantern being snuffed out, only to stagger back half a second later as that same blazing bright inferno engulfed the shadowed man before him. The darkness that had cloaked his form before now violently lashed around the scorching fire, wrapping him into a dark cocoon and obscuring the raging orange radiance within.

Stanford covered his face as the wind shrieked around them, throwing up sand and pieces of wreckage. He called out his brother's name, but his voice was lost to the chaotic noise. The shadows were shifting, incubating something within their sinuous mass. They morphed, growing larger and larger, as something… something inhuman gave a bone-chilling roar from their depths.

Then the shadows began to crack, and the orange glow of the inferno within became visible through the webbing breaks. A giant beastly claw suddenly shoved through the gloomy veil, breaking off flecks of dark wispy particles like an eggshell. The newest victim of Bill's demonic energy, once a fragment of his brother, now a… a monster, savagely clawed and ripped it's way out of the writhing dark mass that encircled it, until it was finally free of its confinement.

The creature stood at it's full height before his twin, towering over him on the beach of the decaying mindscape.

Stanford shook his head, taking a single step back in horror. "Stanley," he whispered. "No."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Only one more chapter after this to tie up the loose ends. We hope you enjoy it and love reading all of your awesome reviews and theorizing ;) Thank you all so much!

* * *

 _"What have I become_

 _My sweetest friend_

 _Everyone I know goes away_

 _In the end_

 _And you could have it all_

 _My empire of dirt_

 _I will let you down_

 _I will make you hurt"_

 _'Hurt' - Johnny Cash_

* * *

Black churning surf pounded against the shoreline beside them, sending a spray of salty mist up into the early morning haze of the air. Two figures faced one another on the edge of the infinite, lightless ocean, one towering over the other, raw savage power emanating from him like a primal force of nature.

The cracked pieces of shadow surrounding his brother's second fragment, one by one, fell away from his hulking form and crashed in large hunks to the black shore below. Each dark smoldering flake, its intangible nature violated by a combination of the mindscape's unreality and Bill's chaotic energy, struck the ground as heavily as though it were a dense chunk of volcanic glass. Sprays of onyx sand flung outward from the points of impact, creating a mess of craters at the creature's feet that could have put the scarred surface of the moon to shame. A thick haze of sparks, smoke, and skin-searing heat flowed up from the debris below, distorting the silhouette of the dark fragment so badly that Stanford couldn't quite distinguish his form. He didn't bother waiting around for the air to clear and reveal it to him.

He turned around, and ran.

Heart thumping like a jackhammer in his chest, feet sinking slightly into the black sand as he struggled to dash forward, Stanford tore along the length of the beach. It was all that he could think to do. _'A tactical retreat'_ was how he frantically justified it in his mind. And… maybe, he would admit, maybe the fear creeping up the nerves of his spine was getting the better of him. But in this situation, it would be beyond foolish not to be afraid! After all, Stanley had to have absorbed a _tremendous_ amount of energy in order to have sealed the rifts between the various dimensions like he did, and if even a small fraction of that power remained in him, then there was absolutely no way Stanford would be able to stand against it. If he tried to take the fragment on in his current form, he would lose against that raw force of power and wrath as badly as a kite would lose in a fight against a hurricane. And the consequences of that failure would either forfeit his own life, or his brother's or, most likely, both.

And really, what else was there for him to try? What else _could_ he do? He'd already attempted to reason with his twin, and that method had fallen flat on its figurative face. He didn't seem able to connect with him on an emotional level either, for whatever reason, no matter how hard he'd tried. He hadn't even been successful in taking Stanley down through force while the playing field had been relatively fair between them, and _not_ horribly skewed by the power his brother had stolen from the ever thorn-in-his-side Bill. Stanford had failed using every method he could think of, and the situation had now turned too disastrous for him to see anything even resembling a clear solution for it. He wasn't even sure that running would do him any good, aside from delaying the inevitable for a little longer.

His frantic dash along the shoreline, along with his despairing musing, were abruptly interrupted as his foot caught itself on a splintering chunk of the Stan O' War that he'd been too distracted to notice sticking up out of the beach. Stanford gasped in shock as the sharp wood tore at his pants and cut through to his skin; his knee, already strained by the damage it had received from Bill's lumbering associate back in the nightmare realm, gave an especially agonizing twinge. It was enough to cause him to stumble and nearly lose his balance, but thankfully he was able to quickly right himself before his body was sent careening into the dark sand.

Despite the way his legs were now quaking painfully below him, Stanford didn't stop to collect himself for more than half a second. The thundering roar and teeth-rattling tremor that resounded from somewhere uncomfortably close behind him ensured that. He didn't even turn around to glance back and confirm whether Stanley's fragment still had the presence of mind to actually pursue him, or whether the man had been completely stripped of anything aside from violent and directionless rage. Stanford's breath hitched slightly at the thought before he continued limping off as fast as he could, sand spraying wildly behind his retreating form.

As he ran across the monochrome beach, it seemed familiar somehow. A sudden dim realization occurred to him. If the portal room had been the heart of his brother's mindscape, then he instinctively knew this dark and misty recreation of Glass Shard Beach to be his. It was the first sounds and feelings he'd really been aware of when he'd awoken to the sight of the sepia-toned grass with an acute ache in his head. The soft roaring of the ocean in the distance. The brackish wet chill in the air. The crying of gulls far up above.

Stanford could only guess, but... when the center of his brother's mind had been splintered apart by his out-of-control emotions, the mindscape might have defaulted to depositing them all here as a replacement. Like a program that had its core file deleted mid-operation pulling up the most similar one it could find to avoid an error message. Or maybe... maybe his own panicked thoughts and emotions had unconsciously drawn them all here in a desperate bid to regain some amount of control over the insanity of his current situation. Unlike the slight disadvantage he'd had on his brother's home turf, the foundation of his mind should have been a place completely under his authority.

Stanford didn't feel very in charge. Though this was the heart of his mindscape, he didn't even have the slightest clue where he was going. He hadn't darted away with any specific destination in mind aside from putting as much distance between himself and the monstrous fragment as possible. But really, what he needed right now was a quiet place to collect his thoughts, so that he could maybe figure out a way to contain this disaster before it got any worse. Because that was what Stanford did best. He didn't 'just wing it', he planned, and as long as things went according to his plans, he almost always succeeded.

In fact, Stanford mused grimly, now he thought back to it, his biggest mistake had probably been jumping straight into the nightmare realm after his brother like a reckless idiot. Stanford Filbrick Pines was better than that. He was a genius in more ways than one, and he knew not to let his emotions take hold of him in crisis situations. He _should_ have waited. He _should_ have come up with a plan beforehand, and _then_ found some way to go after Stanley. He'd already built an interdimensional portal once for crying out loud, he could have done it again and then pursued his brother fully prepared for the curve balls of the nightmare realm _and_ with an array of proper tools at his disposal. This whole mess, going into the mindscape at all, could have been completely avoided if he'd just…

The dark, churning sea beside Stanford rolled in on itself and crashed powerfully against an outcropping of rocks right as he was sprinting past, and he cursed breathlessly as a wild shower of foam and salty mist drenched his side with ice cold water. The clammy wind blowing in over the ocean and tugging insistently at his hair and coat did a good job of digging its fingers into his now damp clothes, chilling him to the bone despite the heat he was working up from his run. Smoky drops beaded on his glasses, obscuring his vision, and Stanford did his best to wipe the condensation away without slowing.

But then…. his Journals had been burned to a pile of ash, hadn't they. He didn't have the blueprints to the machine memorized. And even if he had found some way to make the portal again, if he had rebuilt it, would he actually have risked tearing open another rift and undoing his brother's sacrifice in the hopes of saving him? Would Stanley have even survived long enough in his present condition, and with Bill and his goons out for his blood, for Stanford to have reached him in time?

Was there really anything else he actually could have done, any easier path he could have taken, or had this endeavor been doomed to failure from the very beginning? Maybe the two of them were just cursed.

A patch of something dark blue suddenly popped up in Stanford's peripheral vision, and it immediately caught his attention in the monochrome palette of the mindscape. After a second of hesitation, in which he weighed his desire to keep putting distance between himself and Stanley against his desire to find a place to stop and rest, he altered his trajectory slightly to get a better look at it. It was a long and wavering gash of sapphire, framed on its outer edges by thin strands of frayed reality whipping about wildly in the cool breeze. As Stanford approached, slowing his pace to a light jog, it became a lot more obvious to him that what he was looking upon was a jagged tear that had formed in the fabric of the mindscape. No doubt a result of the immense strain currently being put on it by his brother's failing mind. But what was on the other side of this fluctuating rip? Stanford wasn't sure at first. It obviously wasn't the same cracks of bleached white nothingness that marred the skies above, and from what he could tell by just peering through it, there looked to be another beach like this one contained within; a beach lit by the dim rays of a low riding crescent moon. It must have been a displaced memory of some sort, Stanford finally concluded as he stopped a few feet away from the tear.

Another inhumanly low and deafening roar echoed through the mindscape around Stanford, causing him to flinch slightly as a thrill of fear to crept up the back of his neck. Immediately snapping back into attention and taking a breath to steel himself, he finally spared a swift glance over his shoulder to try and catch sight of his brother's former fragment. What he saw caused his heart to skip a beat, and his face to drain of color. The dark shape had apparently now finished gathering his bearings and had taken note his twin's absence. He was barreling towards where his brother stood at near breakneck speeds, closing the distance that Stanford had put between them in less than half the time it had taken him to make it.

Stanford didn't waste another second before tensing his muscles and diving full bodily into the tear. As he passed through the frayed boundary separating memory from mind, the unnerving sounds, ceaseless shaking, and terror-inducing energy of the crumbling mindscape around him, all seemed to fade away to a muted whisper. As his shoulder slammed against the far more course and pebble-strewn sand of this beach, they disappeared entirely. The now black and white rip in the memory sealed behind him completely, as though it had never been there in the first place. Stanford waited another moment for something else to go wrong, for the boundary to suddenly split open again and deposit the shadowy mass of his brother's second fragment right on top of him, but thankfully nothing like that happened. Save for the sound of ocean waves lapping against the shore, the night was around him was comfortably quiet.

Stanford drew in a slightly hesitant breath of something that wasn't quite relief, in the situation he was currently in that concept seemed little more than a fever dream, but it was… close. He had some room to think now, at the very least…. in wherever this was.

Some unpleasant thrill of foreboding started squirming in Stanford's gut, and he had to force himself to calm back down and get ahold of his emotions. Slowly standing up again, and absentmindedly brushing off the sand that now clung to his wet sleeves, Stanford finally took in his surroundings. The memory, images of a trash-strewn beach and a choppy ocean shimmering under a dark moonlit sky, the feelings of a lonely, uncanny tension that hung in the still air, belonged to Stanley. Stanford was fairly certain of that, he had no recollection of the small cove he was now standing in. He turned around even further to look at the small, dimly lit town behind him. Though, where his brother was located in this memory remained to be see-

 _"We have the same eyes."_

Stanford jumped a little as a low, weathered voice creaked out from a previously unassuming pile of beach junk. A moment later part of the jumble clattered and _moved_ , and a pair of dark, tired eyes flashed up at him in the dim moonlight.

"Oh, sorry." Stanford murmured in relief as he identified the frail old man sitting before him as part of the memory, and not someone, _something_ , coming after him. "I didn't see yo-"

 _"Huh?"_ Another, familiar voice, this time from startlingly close behind him. Stanford jerked his head around and spotted a much, much younger, he couldn't have been any older than eighteen, version of his brother standing a few feet away from him, the backdrop of faint lights from the town behind the teen casting a soft yellow glow across his slicked back hair. Stanford logically knew that this Stanley was only part of a memory, a mere recording of times long gone. Yet his heart gave a painful twinge of an emotion that he couldn't quite place as he took in the sight of his brother, whole, unharmed and human.

Stanley's posture was slouched and yet slightly closed off, one hand tucked into his jacket pocket in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night, and the other grasping onto the handle of a metal detector that was haphazardly slung over his shoulders. He was staring right through his brother as though he wasn't actually there, and in a surreal way, Stanford supposed he wasn't. Stanley eyed the old beach hermit with raised brows as though he hadn't noticed the man's presence here at first either.

 _"Where you headed off to?"_ The vagrant asked, shifting slightly so that the clumped strands of long dirty hair framing his gaunt face fell back slightly, and revealed a worn scowl. He seemed to send Stanley an appraising look of his own as the took in the teen's appearance. _"Nowhere in particular, I'd imagine."_

 _"Uhhh…"_ Stanley glanced around the cove. _"You talkin' to me or somethin' old man?"_

 _"No one else around, is there?"_

The teen rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly more than a little put off by the odd conversation being struck up with this random stranger. _"So… you look like you've been livin' on this beach for a little while now…"_ He started awkwardly, and shrugged a bit as though the question he was asking was more for the sake of formality than because he actually expected a helpful answer. " _Ever seen any World War two kinda, old-timey safes laying 'round here?"_

The hermit made a disinterested grunt at Stanley's question. A collection of glass knick-knacks (were they bracelets perhaps?) hanging off from the rusted metal remains of a buoy sitting behind him started chiming against each other as a cool breeze kicked up. He reached up and rearranged them to stop the racket before absentmindedly answering. _"What would you want something like that for?"_

 _"Hmm? Oh, uh, ya see…"_ Stanford couldn't help but smirk nostalgically as he watched his brother screw his face up into a confident grin as he quickly scrambled to make up a rather unconvincing lie. " _I'm… part of this archeology group. Ya_ know _, for museums and all that. And… uh, I heard about this old navy wreckage that might contain parts of this exhibit thing…."_

Stanley's easy grin and false bravado fell away so suddenly at the hermit's stoic glance, that his twin was forced to do a bit of a double take to make sure that he'd seen correctly. Something unspoken seemed to pass between the pair, and despite his best efforts, Stanford couldn't quite read it. _"Look,"_ the teen spoke again in a more subdued tone after a moment of oddly heavy silence, _"some guys back up at that bar on Second street were chattin' all night about figuring out how to open this safe they found, and I thought maybe I'd try and loot it first before they got back here. If you'll help me find it, I'd be willing to split the profits with ya 80-20."_

The old vagabond stared at his brother for another moment or so before turning himself around on his worn blanket, and going back to his previous task of gazing bleakly out at ocean beyond. _"The sun's gonna start rising in about an hour or so."_ came his quiet mutter as the wind finally died down a little.

 _"… Uh, yeah, it will. That's kinda why I need to hurry up and find this thing before those other yahoo's show up."_ Stanley rearranged the metal detector to a more comfortable position on his shoulder before jerking his thumb back. _"Whaddya say, up for some treasure hunting?"_

The hermit rubbed his grimy hands together to warm them but otherwise said nothing back at first. It didn't matter. It seemed pretty obvious to Stanford that he wasn't even slightly interested in the offer anyways. His posture was loose, weary, and unconcerned, not that of a man who was ready to go romping around the beach in the middle of the night. And what was more was that he appeared… sickly. The crescent moon hanging in the starry sky above, and reflected back in the choppy waters below, cast a sallow light on the tattered man that made him seem almost spectral; an old drawing of a human who's charcoal lines had been worn too faint to see clearly. Behind him and the burdens of his travels, a massive, tangled mess of dark shadows stretched out sharply onto the course beach.

 _"This is my favorite time to be awake. Everything's somber and quiet, and the whole world feels like it's empty, like the night's holding its breath and waiting for day to finally wake up again. You know the sun's gonna rise in the end, but everything around you is so dark, that there's always that little bit of doubt in your mind you can't quite shake. What if the day never comes? What if this was your last night, and it's over now?"_

Stanford swallowed slightly as something uncomfortable and heavy coiled at the bottom of his chest. The melancholy musings had struck a little too close to his own fears at the moment. Almost unconsciously, he took a step nearer to his brother's avatar in the memory.

" _Yeah, that's um… pretty grim and whatnot."_ Stanley agreed from over Stanford's shoulder, tone a bit clipped. _"Is there a point you're tryin' to get at here?"_

The hermit didn't turn around. His shoulders hunched slightly, and the moonlight shining down sharply defined the bony ridges of his spine through his thin shirt. _"I've been living on this beach for a while now, and the only people I ever see wanderin' around aimlessly at this hour are the kind who don't have anywhere better to be. Lonely folk who ain't got a home to return_ to, _or a family wonderin' where they are. But you seem a little young to be in that situation, so I have to ask."_ His weak, raspy voice suddenly morphed into something that gratingly cut through the night air in an uncanny mixture of dark humor, and something that was almost genuine concern. Almost, but not quite. He finally glanced back at Stanley, eyes bright. _"What exactly are you doin' out here, at this time of night?"_

The teen bristled a little defensively, though he didn't seem nearly as disturbed by the old man as Stanford felt he should have been. _"I could ask you the same question."_

 _"Hmm. I think our answer would be the same then."_ The vagabond nodded to himself, grimly satisfied, before changing the subject. _"The ocean's kinda eerie looking in the dark, isn't it."_

Stanley raised his brow skeptically before looking out into the waters as well, and Stanford noticed the impatient scowl on his face softening into something slightly more introspective after a few seconds. _"… Yeah. I guess a little."_

 _"If we had any sense, we would stay far away from it. The sea has a habit of swallowing up people like us."_

Stanley's gaze reluctantly shifted away from the churning sea and over to the hermit, tone puzzled and incredulous. _"Whaddaya_ mean _'people like us', we just met."_

The man turned back to Stanley as well, and though the long lines that marred his expression made him appear exhausted, the eyes boring into the teen from behind the curtains of his matted white hair were bright and unsettlingly intense. Stanford felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he realized that he recognized those eyes from somewhere. The wearied bitterness, the burning hatred, the guarded dismay, it reminded him a bit of… a certain pair of glowing orange pupils.

 _"I mean people who don't really have a place in this world."_ He murmured hoarsely, a bleak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _"The ones who come into it unexpected, unwanted, overshadowed, and who are just as likely to leave the same way. People whose ambitions aren't strong enough to carve a mark that will be remembered, whose desires are simple, and yet, something they can't ever achieve. No one mourns our deaths, and we're not entirely sure that we want them to anyway. Because we don't mourn them either."_

Stanford glanced back over to his brother, his chest constricting painfully upon noticing the very open fear that flashed across Stanley's young expression. _"No, I… I'm not like that."_ The teen shook his head and took a step back, voice cracking slightly as he denied his companions assessment. _"I'm just out here to find a fortune so that my old man will be satisfied. Then my family'll forgive me, and everythin' will go back t-… to normal."_

The hermit paid his brother's distraught protests no mind, and hummed wistfully, despondently, out at the sea. _"They're waiting, ya know, the others like us who never should've existed; they're waiting for us out there in the ocean. They know we're going to join them eventually."_ His bright eyes seemed to dim and glaze over slightly, and Stanford wondered, not for the first time, if the old man was actually all there. _"Perhaps we should go out and greet our fate sooner rather than later, avoid some unnecessary heartbreak before the end."_

Stanley finally seemed to reach an appropriate level of freaked out for the situation and lost his temper, snapping harshly at the man. _"Will you stop talkin' like that. Get ahold of yourself already!"_

"Exactly!" Stanford chimed in, though he was well aware that his approval was falling on deaf ears. He smiled proudly at Stanley and moved out of the way, more for the sake of avoiding the disheartening sensation of someone walking through him than out of any technical necessity, as his brother tossed the metal detector to the ground and swiftly closed the distance between himself and the grim-faced vagabond. The proud smile lessened slightly as Stanley abruptly grabbed a fistful of his weathered shirt, tearing it around the collar, and the older twin couldn't help but worry for a moment that his brother was going to try and beat up the homeless man. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case, as he merely forced him to his eye level so he could fix the full weight of his burning glare upon him.

 _"Don't be sayin' things like that, alright."_ The teen insisted stormily, though his voice was soft and strangely empathetic. " _I don't know what your problem is, but that's no way to go about fixin' it!"_

The hermit, however, was unmoved, and merely stared back at his brother in a blank, only half aware despair. It was obvious that he was someone who'd already given up a long time ago. Stanley seemed to realize this after a moment, the dark, lifelessness of the older man's gaze draining away the ferocity of his own expression, and he lowered the man back to the ground. The teen's brows furrowed in something between doubt and dread as he sent the old man one final meaningful look, before his eyes gradually sunk down to the moonlit, opalescent sand below. The sea faintly crashed against the shoreline beyond, the only sound that filled the quiet of the cool night air.

Stanford nervously rubbed his hands behind his back and glanced between the two, not liking the direction that this was heading. For what felt like hours to him, though it probably only dragged on for a few minutes, a thick, suffocating hush hung itself ominously over the small cove like a hangman's noose. Stanford was tempted to start talking himself, for the sake of his own sanity if for no other reason, but just as he opened his mouth to do so the silence was thankfully broken by the croaking voice of the old hermit addressing his twin.

 _"If you were to just disappear off the face of the earth right now, could you say with any confidence that you'd be missed by anyone."_

 _"My brother, Stanford."_ Though he didn't lift his head to look back at the man, Stanley's response was still automatic. Stanford might have found that more heartening if hadn't mirrored the younger fragment's earlier confidence in him almost exactly.

 _"I see."_ The drifter murmured vacantly after a contemplative pause. _"And do you think your brother is out there somewhere looking for you right now?"_

That got Stanley to finally look back at the man. _"Well I… no,"_ he admitted uncomfortably before shifting his stance away. He hastily threw an excuse behind him as he bent down to retrieve the fallen metal detector. _"He's, um… h-he's probably busy right now. Picking out other colleges, or maybe writing a letter to West Coast Tech explainin' what happened or somethin'."_ Though the hermit couldn't see it from his position, Stanford got to watch as his twin's face screwed up into a sorrowful grimace before shifting to something more defiant, resentful, and frustrated. He propped the tool back up on his shoulder and gave a dismissive shrug. _"Beats me."_

The old man fixed his brother's back with a knowing look, stare still dull but uncannily piercing all the same. " _Tell me, if something really matters to you, and it goes missing, how long do you wait before beginning to search for it?"_

Stanley's posture stiffened. _"It-…Things between us aren't that simple-"_

 _"No, you don't wait, do you."_ The ragged man interrupted. He reached over to carefully wrap his fingers around one of the glass bracelets hanging on the structure behind him, gazing at it almost longingly. It was the first real hint of emotion Stanford had seen him express so far. His words slurred slightly as though exhausted by whatever burden his heart was carrying. _"If they have a choice, then no one would put off looking for something that's truly important to them. You start looking for something as soon as you lose it, and the more you value it, the longer and harder you're willing to search. Because if you don't know where that something is, then you don't know what might be happening to it; and the longer you wait, the higher the chances are that it might get destroyed, or ruined, or stolen, or worse."_ He ran his fingers lightly across a crack that marred one of the beads, his mouth falling back to an empty scowl before he tucked it possessively away into his pocket. _"If you're not around, then you can't prevent its mistreatment."_

Stanford's hands clenched tightly behind him, and his eyes tore away from the image of his teenage brother to stare out at the small town faintly glowing in the distance. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to look his twin's young body tensed defensively, his expression saturated with something akin to hurt. Was this why his brother was so doubtful of his intentions, why he had such a hard time believing that Stanford truly cared about him? He supposed that it did make a disturbing amount of sense. After all, Stanley admittedly _had_ ended up spending close to thirty years searching for him. But back then, back here when he guessed this memory took place, even knowing somewhat that things hadn't been going well for his twin, how long had Stanford spent searching for him? Simply put, he hadn't; not until he himself had needed Stanley's help. He'd considered going after his brother several times, had almost driven off to do so twice during an especially slow semester at Backupsmore, but… something had always held him back. Pride, anger, the fear that it was already too late to fix things between them, a burning desire to strike out on his own without having to worry about anyone slowing him down or ruining any of his other projects, a distracted mind filled with wild dreams of other worlds. Yeah, lots of… somethings.

And how badly had his brother been hurt because of this? Because when he'd needed it, no one had rushed to his aid? Because when he'd been lost, no one had searched for him? Because… he didn't think his life was important, that it truly mattered, to the people he cared about most?

If the second fragment's words and scorching wrath were anything to go by, then pretty badly.

Stanford's attention was drawn back to the scene before him as Stanley dramatically whirled around to face the old man, his jaw clenched in a poor attempt to hide the fear coloring his expression. _"No! You don't-"_ He started, before pausing as he realized that he was shouting. The teen lowered the volume of his slightly hoarse voice, jabbing his thumb angrily at himself as he spoke. _"Look, I'm the one who screwed up, ok! I ruined his future. I'm the one who has to make things up to him. Alright. He- I'm the last one who should be holding a grudge against him if he doesn't-"_ Stanley looked away as he suddenly cut himself off again, eyes shining with what his twin feared were barely restrained tears. The wind on the beach picked up once more, filling the small stretch of silence with the sound of tinkling glass and Stanford's fluttering trenchcoat.

A steely temperament began to settle over his brother's face, but even with the pale moon clearly lighting his features, Stanford couldn't quite decipher what the emotion was. It didn't really seem pleasant. _"He doesn't owe me anything."_ Stanley continued quietly after a beat.

"Stanley." Stanford whispered sadly, forgetting for a moment that this was a memory as he drew close and tried to put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I… I didn't mean-It's not that I-" He flinched in surprise as his arm passed right through his twin, as though a cold mist was slipping through his fingers, as though he were a ghost. Or maybe, Stanford thought glumly as his brother took no notice of his presence, and guilt twisted itself like a knife in his gut, maybe it was he himself who was the ghost here; a phantom of apologies and sentiment coming forty years too late.

"It's not about owing anyone. I… you're important to me. You're very important to me, Stanley. I should have searched for you."

The hermit stared at Stanley for a little longer before shrugging indifferently and shifting his tired gaze back out to the open water. There was the slightest hint of purple creeping up onto the horizon. _"Hm. If that's how you really feel," he clicked dryly, "then you should stop staring out at the ocean with sad eyes like mine. It makes you look like someone who doesn't_ care _whether or not they live to see tomorrow."_

Stanley let out an uneasy breath before nodding in acceptance of the man's words and reaching into his jean pocket to fish out a couple of crumpled ones. _"It's kinda cold out here."_ He murmured, roughly shoving the change into the hermit's callused fingers and doing his best to try and cover up the kindness with his usual gruff tone. _"Why don't ya go up to the docks and buy something warm to drink."_

In a move that somewhat surprised both brothers, the old man spared the money a disinterested glance before shaking his head, and quietly handing it back to up to Stanley. After a moment of hesitation, his brother's eyes flashing with a mixture of sorrow and understanding, he reluctantly accepted, and stuffed the bills back into his pocket. Then, in a move the seemed to surprise Stanford alone, his brother set the metal detector off to the side, and sat down next to the dirty vagabond. The pair didn't need to say anything more to each other, and didn't even glance over to acknowledge the other person's presence. They just… gazed out at the rolling sea before them, watching silently as the first pink hues of dawn started melting into the sky above, and was reflected back by the water below.

Stanford wasn't sure what to make of this. It bothered him that his brother, his eighteen-year-old brother, could so easily understand and relate to this old, despairing, hollow shell of a man. It shouldn't have been this way. The hermit was half crazed and utterly hopeless, and… not like Stanley at all. He wasn't.

Stanford moved to walk over in front of the pair so that he could see for himself what expression was settled onto his twin's face. He had to know if Stanley's decision to sit here with the old man had been out of pity, or because he felt him to be a kindred spirit, or maybe his brother was just really tired and not thinking clearly. However, just as his back had turned towards the warm light of the rising sun, and he looked down upon Stanley's tired, and yet smiling and oddly content expression, he was caught off guard by the memory of his brother staring directly back _at_ him, actually _seeing_ him.

"He found you." The teen muttered. And that was all the warning that Stanford received before the memory around him started shaking so violently that he toppled over and was sent sprawling into the pebbly shoreline. A near deafening, ripping noise painfully screeched throughout his skull, and the sound scrambled his senses so badly that he didn't notice the long, midnight black fingers reaching for him through a new monochrome tear in the mindscape; not before it was too late. They wrapped themselves savagely around his waist, hot as metal under a summer sun, and Stanford was forcibly dragged out of the memory, abruptly flung back to the dark, crumbling shore that his brother's fragments were lost, dying, and raging within. The frayed rip immediately closed back up just inches away from his horrified face as he flew away from it.

He was sent crashing face down into the beach, thrown hard enough against the ground that the air was completely choked from his lungs. His glasses were nearly knocked off from his face and lost to the black sand. He gasped sharply, limbs trembling and vision spinning wildly. For a moment, it was all that Stanford could do to just gather himself up and kneel there spluttering. Small vibrations pulsed through the older twin's bones as few more tremors shook the mindscape around them.

Stanford blinked slowly as he finally noticed a pair of dark clawed feet pressed heavily into the black sand before him, the ebony fur that framed them twisting and squirming around violently like grass in a gale force wind. His heart gave a nauseating lurch at the wave of searing heat that suddenly radiated down onto his back, and the loud, low growl that rumbled from somewhere up above him.

" ** _You can't escape me, Sixer_**."

This was it. There was obviously no amount of running or hiding that was going to save him, save either of them. If he wanted to bring himself and his brother both back home to Gravity Falls, to the shack, to their friends, and their twin niece and nephew, then Stanford was going to have to… he needed to…

Stanford didn't know. H-he didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do!?

Heart rapidly beating against his chest, the older twin slowly, finally, lifted his head to stare wide-eyed at the younger, and take in what he'd become.

The second fragment, what monstrous form remained of him, was absolutely colossal. Visage bear-like in proportions, he was easily three times taller than Stanford standing at his full height on two powerful back legs. Pointed wolf-like ears sticking out on the top of his head gave the appearance of horns, and a long black muzzle was pulled into a feral snarl. H-his eyes, however… his eyes were the most unnerving, terrifying part of him, so much so that just the act of staring back into them unconsciously set Stanford's teeth on edge. He couldn't distinguish a shred of humanity left within them, awareness and recognition yes, but it wasn't the same. The fragment had numerous eyes now, running up the sides of his face in an odd bilateral pattern, scorching, loathing, and merciless. The orange inferno within them was the same glow from his brand, which now covered the entirety of his back. Dark wisps of shadow rose like a thick sooty smoke from the smoldering burn, trailing up a few feet into the corroding sky before dissipating.

For a few agonizingly long seconds Stanford couldn't think to do anything other than blankly stare at the creature towering over him, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and dread. He scrambled up to his feet and stumbled another few steps backward, unable to look away from his brother, knees still aching and wobbling a little from his previous struggles. This wasn't how things were supposed to have turned out, not by a long shot. They were _supposed_ to have cooperated and formed a doorway out of the mindscape by now. They were _supposed_ to be safe at home, maybe even discussing the divide and misunderstandings that had separated them for all these years. He was… h-he was…. How? How could things have gone so horribly wrong?

The hulking, dark mass of a demon fell forward onto his front legs, curling black claws missing Stanford by inches, and the whole of the mindscape seemed to shudder with the impact. A series of snaps cracked from the creature's neck as he jerkily drew back his head, and gave another earth-shaking _roar_. The ground shuddered, crumbled, and split beneath them in a series of thick spider webbing fissures, pitch black sand flowing in waterfalls over the edges and disappearing into the deep bottomlessness below. Stanford lost his footing and nearly got his leg caught within a crevice as he scrambled backward, but he didn't take his eyes off of Stanley. Even the threat of existence tearing itself apart around them couldn't get him to look away.

"You."

The beast deliberately, menacingly, turned his immense head toward Stanford, voice gravelly, warped, and low enough to cause his twin's teeth to vibrate, and his ears to ring slightly. Stanley began to stalk toward him, gigantic claws leaving boulder-sized dents with each lumbering step into the soft beach beneath him. Stanford's heart thundered in his chest, as every primal instinct within him once again screamed at him to run, but this time with an urgency and intensity that he hadn't felt since his earlier years wandering the multiverse. Though it had taken a tremendous amount of self-discipline, and a few close calls to get the lesson to stick, he'd eventually been able to shutter away these more panicked gut reactions when faced with the stuff of nightmares, and had honed his intellect like a lightning-quick reflex to get himself out of tight spots. But now… now that buried feeling of complete terror and helplessness had overtaken him, and he was nearly blind with panic. Once again, he was frightened prey running from a monster that hunted him.

" _You_. I _hate_ you."

The more Stanford struggled to move his feet, the more the ashen sand clung fast, slowing his movements down until it was no better than trying to run through sludge. Stanley drew closer and closer, an unstoppable avalanche of darkness and fury.

"You backstabbing piece of _shit_!"

There was a blur of motion as a claw slammed into the ground, and the near explosive impact inches from where Stanford floundered sent a spray of the sooty black particles flying up into the air. The shock wave completely swept him off his feet like a ragdoll, and he was airborne for half a second before abruptly crashing back down in a heap. Groaning, Stanford immediately forced his still reeling body back up, barely processing that Stanley's hulking, dusky silhouette had once again rounded on him. The voice that rumbled from his dark maw was thick with savage animosity.

"He always stood up for ya when everyone picked on ya for your freaky hands, but did you ever return the favor when people called _us_ dumb and useless? No. NEVER!"

The other claw unexpectedly swung out at Stanford from his right, and he only had a moment to throw himself down onto the sand again before the massive fingers grazed through the locks of his hair. A spine-tingling burst of air swept across the top of his head soon after.

"You let us get kicked out of our home! You didn't believe us, you accused us, and you ruined our life over an accident! You were more bothered about what school some stupid paper said you graduated from than your own brother getting tossed into the streets!"

"Stanley, p-please I-" Stanford tried, voice cracking before he was forcibly cut off. He realized, two seconds too late this time, that he couldn't dodge the attack. There was a blow to his chest, as terrible and bone crunching as though he'd been hit full force by a sledgehammer, and it caused shocks of pain to spread through the nerves in his chest with the speed of a wildfire. Stanford's limp body was sent soaring into the air, his mind flittered on the edge of consciousness.

 _He and his brother were laughing, chasing each other across the shoreline of Glass Shard Beach. The sun reflected brightly off the wet, foamy sand, their feet squelching and leaving little hollowed prints behind for pools water to collect. They were so small that the waves, which would have been knee-high on an adult, crashed up against their chest in a brackish spray that nearly toppled them over whenever one came in. But they were so preoccupied with the game they were playing that they barely took notice. Stanford's slick fingers fumbled as he tried to catch the seashell. It had shattered so easily. A mess of broken shards littered at his feet before the sea came in and washed it all away._

Then the ground suddenly came up to greet Stanford and crushed the breath from his lungs. A sharp pop rang out from somewhere to his right, drawing his attention to the awkwardly bent elbow now attached to his arm. He lay there bonelessly, muscles in his throat spasming as he heaved and choked.

"You didn't even care enough to check on us once. Not _once_ in TEN YEARS!" the creature screamed. His voice reverberated like the snap of gunfire, sending a sandstorm of charcoal flecks flying up past Stanford's prone form. They bit into his flesh, scraped against his glasses, and dug themselves viciously into his eyes. He gasped, bringing the fingers of his still functional hand up behind his spectacles to try and clear his vision from the stinging pain. His eyes watered badly, tears dirtied and dark with grit.

"We were homeless, and in poverty, and chased halfway around the world by cops and crooks who would gun us down if we so much as looked at them wrong. They abused our body, they hurt our _soul_. We thought that we were worthless, useless, dirty, incompetent, incapable; a parasite whose very existence just brought misery to the people we loved. We thought that no one would care if we lived or died. We hated ourself, and we hated the world, and we hated _you_!"

Both of the fragment's massive claws were slammed down upon his chest, the weight of each by itself equivalent to a cannon ball. Stanford felt a searing sharp crack arch through him, and he spit up blood, choking and coughing. His twin's claws dug into his shoulders pinning him into the quaking ground, sinking Stanford deeper into the dunes. Stanley leaned forward until his muzzle was inches from Stanford's face, multiple glowing eyes searing into his own gaze in vivid orange rows of molten metal.

"And then, then we sacrificed thirty years of our life to save your ungrateful ass from your own stupid machine. We destroyed our own name in a car crash. We taught ourself your codes and theoretical physics. We guarded your secrets. We spent almost every single night for more than three decades down in the basement trying to find a way to bring you back home."

Stanley's massive form quaked in rage, his eyes burning impossibly brighter as he easily wrapped his claw around Stanford's chest and pulled him up from the ground, closer to his face. His own low voice was strangely choked and struggling. "We were so worried for you. We were so afraid that you were already dead. We blamed ourself. We thought that it was all our fault. The guilt was unbearable. And we hated, we hated ourself so much. But we succeeded. Despite it all, all the time we had to wait, everything we had to sacrifice, we succeeded. And tell me, _Poindexter_ , how; how exactly did you repay us for all of this when we finally saw you again for the first time in thirty years? Instead of thanking us for all that we had done, we got accusations, blame, and A PUNCH TO THE FACE!"

The dark mass of the second fragment balled an enormous fist and slammed it straight into Stanford's face. His head snapped back, as his glasses completely shattered. Droplets of blood and small shards of broken glass flew into the air, joining the rest of the showering debris. Stanford's dazed eyes trailed with them, ears ringing, body throbbing in pain.

"And you know what the worst part about all of that is though? It's that we actually kinda expected as much from ya. We did all of this even while knowing that if our positions had been reversed ya would have left us to rot on the other side of that portal for all eternity!"

"Th-that isn't true!" Stanford finally found his voice, even if it was gasping and laced with pain. An opaque fog was beginning to drift and creep upon the corners of his vision, and his mind swirled disorientingly as he tried to blink it away. But it didn't go away. It was everywhere, the mindscape was now responding to Stanford's own devastated mental state. The gloom slowly drifted in around the brothers. "Stanley… that isn't true."

" _Really?!_ " Stanley scoffed, and barked out a cruel laugh that sent more bits of sand swirling upwards. "I find it hard to believe that someone like you would ever risk one life against the fate of the universe. Even if that life does belong to your own brother. Besides, ya already abandoned us for a decade, so what difference would the rest of eternity make to ya anyways!"

Stanley raised a beastly paw to strike Stanford again, but suddenly paused at Stanford's next pain-filled, trembling words.

"I… to get out of the nightmare realm, in order to save you… I cracked open the doorway between Bill's world and the mindscape. I-I invited the possibility that he would one day wreak havoc on our world again….so…so I could bring you back home. Stanley, _please-_ "

The long jagged fingers of the claw plummeted down directly next to his head. In a haze of hot sparks, the sand was shattered into complete, bleached nothingness. Stanford squeezed his eyes closed, unable to hold back a whimper.

"LIAR! STOP TOYING WITH US!" the beast roared, utterly infuriated. "I know how you really feel. I know where your priorities lie. You would choose your dumb mystery world over us any day. Ya think you're so much better than us, better than everyone; that people should just line up to throw themselves down in front of you for the sake of your ambitions. Ya have no problem steppin' all over other people, but heaven forbid someone _ever_ want to lean on you. Because anyone who ever needs your help or support, they're just burdens slowing the great Stanford Pines down and getting in the way his true potential, right? _You_ don't have to care about other people because unlike _them_ , you're _special_ , and _important_ , and going to do _amazing_ things that will change the world. Ha! Your pride makes me sick!" The symbol on his back pulsed bright enough that Stanford could still see its glow even from the wrong side, and the shadowed smoke leaking from around his towering mass flared upwards into the sky. "IT MAKES ME HURT!"

Stanford flinched away, his eyes still tightly closed, as he braced himself for another debilitating blow. When none came, he cracked open an eye to see Stanley's own numerous glowing orange eyes staring down at him unblinkingly. His brother's fragment bent down close, until his grotesque face was directly next to Stanford's ear, and when he spoke again, his voice seethed with a quiet venom and cruelty.

"Ya know, I think _you_ do actually belong with Bill and his little gang of freaks, but not because of your stupid six fingers. No, ya belong with him because just like him, you're a _monster_."

Both of Stanford's eyes flew open as Stanley's words struck something deep within him, as though he had torn through stitches binding together an old wound. "ENOUGH!" Stanford bellowed, as a sudden icy wave of fury surged through him.

Stanford swung his fist wildly trying to catch Stanley in his face, but a shadowy claw effortlessly caught his arm. Stanley's face broke into a sudden beastly grin, multiple rows of razor teeth glinting like the orange glow of his eyes. He let out a deep vicious laugh, seemingly taking an immense pleasure in Stanford's reaction.

"You-you're wrong," Stanford weakly tried to defend. "I'm not like him…" Then just as quickly as it had come, the brief flash of anger seeped out of him, leaving him trembling and plagued with self-doubt. He hung his head, tears stinging his eyes with a sudden vehemence. "I-I'm nothing like…" His voice trailed off, an old aching self-loathing digging nails sharply into his heart. Everything was rapidly becoming unhinged, it was all breaking, and it felt to Stanford as though he was plunging over a smooth surface, trying hopelessly to grab onto anything to stop his fall. But his hands kept coming away empty, and there was no safety net to catch him this time.

Because when his whole world had fallen apart on him like this once before, when Bill had first revealed his treachery leaving Stanford reeling, terrified, near insane with guilt and paranoia, with no one he felt he could trust, with the literal weight of the entire universe pressed into his shoulders, it was his twin who he had turned to. In his darkest hour, Stanley had been his safety net.

"Oh?" the monstrous form of his twin mocked in cruel delight. "Are ya saying that Bill Cipher doesn't use people? _Just like you do_. Are ya saying that Bill Cipher doesn't betray people's trust? _Just like you do_. It's no wonder that the two of you got along so well. YOU HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON!"

Stanley again wrapped his large claws around Stanford's chest, and lifted him into the air before viciously slamming him into the shore. His dislocated elbow let out another blood-chilling series of pops, but the author of the journals couldn't feel it enough to truly mourn the loss of his dominant writing hand. Everything was just too dark and… hazy. Spinning. The mindscape gave a mighty shudder and the ground began to crack again underneath them.

"No, no," Stanford moaned, the tears that had welled up in his eyes now spilled freely down his cheeks. This was a nightmare, it was all just some terrible nightmare…

A wide toothy smile, wild and insane, cracked across his brother's face like a molten fissure. "It hurts, doesn't it Ford. IT HURTS, DOESN'T IT!" The creature threw his head back and howled in dark, unbridled laughter that might have horrified Stanford if he'd still had the presence of mind to be afraid. As it was, he could only gaze up at what wrath and hatred remained of his twin through his tears while the demon deliberately curled its long fingers around Stanford's neck.

This wasn't Stanley, it couldn't be Stanley, it just _couldn't be_ -… but… but it was. It was his brother, and he was just as real as Stanford. Though, it was doubtful that he would be recognizable as such, either to himself or to anyone else, for very much longer. He was gradually losing himself as Bills energy coursed through him, becoming more savage, more obsessive, more cruel. More like a monster.

Stanford coughed weakly as he feebly tried to loosen the grip around his throat with his good hand, fingers desperately trying to dig into the coarse, hot fur. Stanley grinned viciously and raised his other arm, pointing it towards the turbulently thrashing water beyond, and directly at the hanging, unconscious fragment within the eye of the portal. Numerous lengths of shadowy chain burst forth from the dark sea, thrashing aimlessly around in the air for a moment before they were directed toward their target. They whipped towards the figure, wrapping around and binding him so utterly that even the dim glow from the wound on his chest was buried, leaving only his ashen face and pained expression visible. The smoldering leviathan slowly closed his fist, at the same time severely tightening the grip on his twin's neck. Stanford's eyes almost went back into his head from the intense pressure, and he heard a raw scream of agony carry across the chaotic storm of the mindscape as both he and the third fragment were crushed simultaneously. The second fragment's voice was barely audible above it all, building to a fever pitch, shaky, scorching, and wild.

"I want ya to hurt. I _want ya_ to hurt. I want ya to hurt, **_Like I hurt_**."

"Stop it. Stanley, stop it! Just leave me alone!" Stanford sobbed, fighting to lift the claw clamped around his neck. Stanley pulled his other claw away from the fragment and reached down to wrap it around his twin's neck as well. The titan's ruthless grin was still fixed firmly in place. A hungry look glinted in his eyes, as though he were a child who couldn't believe that he was getting away with something bad. His claws were practically trembling in barely restrained glee against Stanford's throat.

"What's the matter _Sixer_?" He whispered bitterly, voice fluctuating madly with each word that followed as he became increasingly unhinged. "Ya seemed so adamant about taking me with you before. But really, this is more what I'm used to from ya. Push me away. Just keep pushing me away and play the victim while you ignore all the damage _you've_ done to _me_. I'm hurting, so you don't want me around anymore. You think I'm bein' **SUFFOCATING**!?"

The unrelenting grip of his brother's beastly paws closed tighter around Stanford's throat. In a blind panic, he grabbed at them, pulling and clawing at the fur, his fingernails scratched against the vice-like grip as he tried in vain to gain his freedom. Stanley didn't budge. Not a centimeter.

 _No…_

Stanford's vision flickered oddly, and the mindscape around him seemed to echo his fading consciousness by giving a vast groan, and then convulsing like a strip of paper caught between two bursts of wind. Above them, the dark grey void of the sky tore itself open. It spread, blinding, erasing white, steadily growing like a reverse black hole, devouring anything within its reach, and replacing it with a barren nothingness. The black sand and debris around him lifted up, his coat and hair whipping wildly towards the greedy blank vacuum.

All of Stanley's fragments either didn't notice or didn't seem to care. Stanford was barely able to turn his head, desperately looking toward the child fragment for aid. H-he… he'd helped him before. He hadn't wanted to be destroyed. He loved his family, loved Stanford, and wanted to see them all happy and alive again. He would help him, right?

The boy wasn't in a position to notice his twin's pleading gaze. The inky, thrashing tide had nearly covered his small form completely, and he sat within the rising waters as still as a stone jetty. His hands were still firmly covered over his ears.

Stanford's tearful gaze fell away and traveled to the third fragment suspended within the ruined portal. He watched hopelessly as the whiteness of the sky began to drip down onto his face, slowly engulfing his body from the top down, eating him alive. He was dissolving again, slowly coming apart like in the nightmare realm. But he didn't stir, didn't open his eyes.

A dull sort of acceptance of his inevitable death was starting to sink into Stanford, and he finally raised his eyes up to the dark fragment still intent on suffocating him. His monstrous face was pulled into a wild mask of hatred and rage, uncaring that he was going to die with his brother, counting on it. Stanford looked into the unemotive fiery eyes, and felt tears softly trickle down his face.

Stanford had failed him. Failed him in the worst possible way. He'd lost him to the darkness of his own mind, and now it was far too late for him to do anything about it. If only he had been there sooner…. in that memory with the hermit, what if he'd actually been there. What if after he'd punched and lectured his brother for that reckless gambit of opening the portal, he'd returned the hug first offered; if he'd let him know how much he'd missed him over the past thirty years. If only he had recognized, had realized… if only he had told him how much he truly loved him… how much he actually cared. If only….

It was too late.

"I-I… I'm sorry." The words escaped him in a rasping whisper, swallowed by the tumultuous shuddering of the dying mindscape. The ruthless claws around his throat twitched, loosening for the briefest of moments, before tightening again. Stanford stared into his brother's face, his arms dropping to his sides, no longer bothering to fight. The darkness in his vision grew, along with the void in the sky.

Stanford smiled sadly, tears dripping steadily from his eyes.

"I-I couldn't… save you, Stanley," he choked out, voice thick with sorrow. "I couldn't save you… like you saved me."

The tears on his cheeks floated into the air, pulled into the void along with everything else. "…. I've failed you…..I-I'm sorry."

Stanley froze.

"No," he growled, his voice reverberating dangerously. "No, you aren't."

Stanford looked directly into Stanley's eyes, seeing many reflections his own mournful face reflected back at himself from their fiery depths. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

A sudden jarring impact on his back emptied the rest of the precious air from his lungs. His head cracked against a remaining wooden piece from the Stan O'War half buried in the sand.

"STOP IT! Stop it or I'll KILL YOU!" Stanford was lifted again, and his body hung limp as a rag doll from his brother's claws. "I don't believe you! I'LL NEVER TRUST YOU!"

The leviathan pulled him forward, closer and closer to his snarling maw until Stanford was so close that his entire vision was filled with nothing but dimly glinting, razor sharp teeth.

"I'LL RIP YOU A̵̙͕̩ P̥͖̖̻̰̤ ͍̰͓A̴͙̪ ̢̗̦R͙̙̪͕̤̙ ̕T̘̘"

"I'M SORRY!" The words tore out from Stanford, from the very core of his being, and they echoed across the shuddering mindscape.

Stanley screamed and ferociously, savagely, flung Stanford across the dark sand dunes like he was skipping a stone. Their universe rocked violently, the void above them screeching like a rusty old machine before suddenly stopping, and dissolving away. Stanford hit the ground and tumbled listlessly, sending debris and black sand up around him. His body rolled for a few more feet, before skidding to a halt. He lay deathly still, not a sound escaping him.

Stanley stood there, panting, his many eyes staring at the fallen form of his brother. His giant body shuddered, and his pointed ears twitched backwards. "I told you… I warned you I would k-kill… why didn't you… why…."

For a moment, Stanford could only just breathe, the slight air slipping faintly from his slack jaw making a small dent in the charcoal grains of sand. He blinked once, dizzy, twice, disbelieving, before stirring weakly and letting out a quiet moan, his body trembling on the ground in pain. With every nerve on fire, he forced himself to kneel, and then stumble to his feet, turning back towards Stanley's second fragment.

"S-Stan…" Stanford swayed, his blurry vision focusing on the monstrous form of his brother. Tears streamed down his face, his breath hitched with sobs as he took a single step forward. "Stanley."

The ceaseless quaking of the monochrome beach suddenly quieted beneath his feet, as did the howling wind around them. The particles that had been whipping upward in the whirlwind slowly settled back down like a handful of debris sinking into water. It was though they had passed into the eye of a hurricane, danger still looming threateningly on every side, but for now, it had all stopped. The mindscape was halcon, clear, and peaceful, even if only ominously so.

Stanley shook his head. "No," he whispered, terror now creeping into _his_ voice. "I don't belie-… I-I don't…"

A hush had fallen upon the entire mindscape, as if the realm itself was watching the brothers and holding its breath. Stanford shuddered as sobs wracked through his body and took another step forward. Then another. With every step Stanford took towards him, Stanley took a step away.

"What are you so afraid of?" Stanford murmured, and somehow his quiet voice carried across the empty shoreline. The youngest of the fragments twitched from his position in the now calm, gently lapping black water, raising his head slightly. The second fragment, however, only responded with a defensive, vicious snarl, continuing to back away from his brother.

"It… It'll be okay, S-Stanley," he said softly. Stanford slowly extended a hand toward him, feeling as though he were almost in a trance, wanting nothing more than to comfort his hurting twin.

 _"Don't touch me!"_ the creature howled, flinching away from his twin. His gigantic form stumbled backward as if Stanford's hand was an ocean's worth of icy water to his small burning flame. Tears continued to spill down Stanford's face, but he pressed forward, his steps purposeful. Gradually, Stanley had retreated until his back legs touched the edge of the grimy black sea. The waves sluggishly pulled at his feet, and the shadows spreading from Stanley's burn mark began to come alive with a renewed fury.

The mindscape had now completely quieted to an eerie stillness, the only sound the dull crash of waves. Stanley's smallest fragment sat up even straighter as his dark counterpart was pushed back into the ocean with him. Inky drops were dripping from his soaked hair down into the pale foam that had collected around his shivering body, and he peeked warily over his shoulder at the two approaching figures, eyes widening in surprise… perhaps hope.

As Stanford drew closer to his brother, the shadows writhed threateningly with increased agitation, ready to strike out at any moment. Stanley swung his head over his shoulder to look for an escape, but nothing was there but the expansive black ocean. His wolf-like ears flattened against his head in fear, as he frantically looked for a way out. His large body huddled away from Stanford, all four paws now in the water. A guttural growl rose from him, gaining volume until it filled the air like distant thunder.

Water sloshed over Stanford's pant legs, dark waves gently ebbing and flowing around him, but he paid them no mind. Stanford didn't slow his steps, even when the shadows arched toward him like black vipers. He didn't stop until he was directly in front of Stanley's second fragment, close enough to see each individual shadow twitching towards him, and the orange glow from Stanley's eyes and brand shone off of him casting his own body in an orange tint. The demon regarded him in a mixture of terror and rage, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

Stanford reached his hand forward, and gently placed it on Stanley's front leg.

His brother's fragment let out a shriek, as if Stanford's light touch had instead shoved a knife straight into his heart. The brand on his back pulsed a fiery glow of pain and rage. _"GET AWAY!_ "

The shadows swirling around Stanley were done with their warning rattle and struck viciously outward. They shot up Stanford's arm and spread like a fire on gasoline. In an instant, the older twin was completely engulfed within them. They were consuming him. Stanford screamed, his soul igniting with a frozen fire, burning into the essence of his being. His heart shattered and shattered again, an eternal agony caught within a single moment that he was lost within. He was falling, utterly alone within the agonizing suffocating darkness, and for that eternal moment, it was all he knew.

Then another part of Stanford's soul blazed to life, shining with a burning resolve, and it told him not to let go. He kept his hand still as he let shadows tear into his soul, but they couldn't rip it couldn't, because he was was here for his brother, and Stanford wasn't ever going to lose him again, not to anything in the universe. Not to shadows, or to a demon's power, or even to Stanley himself. And then, just as it began, the flames that washed over him dissipated. They flickered weakly before retreating from him, down his arm, and back to Stanley.

Stanford came back to himself, gasping as warm tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked up at his brother and blinked in awe. His monstrous face was twisted into something resembling sorrow. From his multiple eyes, globs of glowing molten liquid trailed down his muzzle and splashed into the murky water with a sizzle, sending wisps white steam spiraling up into the air. The shadows were no longer thrashing around and were now curled protectively around him, but they didn't cling to him as closely as they had before. They were thin now, little more than a smoky haze. The brand had now lost almost all of its light, glowing weakly on his back. Stanford didn't remove his hand, a broken smile on his face.

"You've been hurting so badly… and I never even noticed. Some brother I turned out to be, huh?" A small humorless laugh escaped him.

Stanley was silent for the first time, his giant body heaving with shaky rasping breaths.

"You… You're afraid of me, aren't you?" Stanford asked softly. "Afraid that I'll hurt you again."

The fragment didn't answer him but shuddered under his hand. His fur was cold, almost frigid to the touch. Stanford turned his tired gaze to the water, voice quiet and choked with tears. "Y-you… I-I'm sorry Stanley. I'm sorry that I got so wrapped up in the excitement about getting into my dream school. So wrapped up that I never once considered your feelings or the p-position I was leaving you in. I knew that… that you would have been miserable stuck in a dead-end job like that. But I convinced myself that it wasn't… my problem."

Out of the corner of his eye, Stanford saw the child fragment now turn completely toward them, watching with rapt, undivided attention. His expression was oddly reserved and revealed nothing. Stanford swallowed thickly, and continued, his words halting.

"I didn't even…bother to n-notice how scared and alone you truly felt. And I'm supposedly a genius! I should have realized… at the very least _asked_ h-how you felt, not ignored you. I'm… sorry. You're my brother Stanley. It _was_ my problem."

Stanford sniffled and rubbed his thumb over Stanley's arm."I was wrong t- hgh, to do that to you."

The child wiped at his tear stained cheeks, the only evidence now of his previous crying, and was standing up in the waves. The shadows under Stanford's hand twitched weakly and slowly began to abate and fade.

"A-And when you got kicked out…" Stanford continued murmuring, his eyes closed. "You were so _hurt_ by what dad did to you… i-it shouldn't have mattered if it was an accident or not… I should have reached out… o-offered some sort of encouragement or comfort. B-But I didn't. For ten years, I didn't say a word to you. I'm sorry that I didn't check up o-on… how you were doing until I needed your help. I-I was so angry after I thought you had sabotaged my chances of getting into my dream school. I… I didn't feel like I could ever forgive you. I didn't _want_ to forgive you. I thought you'd betrayed me; convinced myself that you'd been lazy and were just riding off my success. I was so b-bitter. But also felt… so much regret. I-I didn't want to think about it. I just… I devoted myself purely to my studies so I could forget you. You needed me, and I wanted to forget you. You were suffering, and I… I abandoned you. I should've chased after you… I should have. I'm sorry I didn't."

Stanford tried vainly to reach under his shattered glasses and wipe away his tears, but they wouldn't stop. The shadows had almost entirely faded, from around his brother's second fragment. A soft grey mist was now beginning to shroud him, slowly obscuring from sight. It was icy against Stanford's hand. As he looked on, it appeared as though Stanley was beginning to transform again, becoming smaller as his twin spoke.

"And I shouldn't've blamed you for what happened with the portal thirty years ago. What happened wasn't really your fault. It was an- guh, was an accident and I knew it. I… I called you out of nowhere and thrust you right into the heart of my own stupid mess without warning. I didn't…" Stanford winced and clenched his hand slightly. "I didn't allow you to destroy my research then and there, even though I _knew_ it was ….it was… the best course of action. I knew, I knew, but I was too proud of my life's work to let it go to waste. If I had just let you burn it… so much grief could have been prevented." He spared another glance over to Stanley, his form now shrunk down to a normal height, although his features were still cloaked in the grey mist.

"It really c-could've been you that was lost to the portal just as easily as it-as it ended up being me. It was an accident. A matter of bad luck 'nd bad timing. The portal was my folly. It was m- .. not yours. That I ended up falling through it at all was probably just karma getting back at me for ever being-" He laughed bitterly at himself. "B-Being blinded enough to ever work wi…with s-someone like _Bill_ ," Stanford spat out the demon's name like a curse, filled with self-loathing.

The form before him was no longer a monstrous, intimidating force of wrath. No, now he resembled Stanley's second fragment almost exactly as he'd been before except… drained. A mere wraith of the imposing dark form he used to be. He resembled a worn homeless vagabond, his clothing shabby and frayed. The tattered gray suit hung off him loosely, rustling gently in the sea breeze. His face was gaunt, almost malnourished looking, and silver hair hung limply over his eyes.

Stanford's hand trailed down the shade's arm, over white scars disfiguring his ghostly, almost translucent skin, until it finally slid into Stanley's cold thin hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

Stanford glanced up at the still figure hanging within the portal. A lump formed in his throat and he absent-mindedly wiped at his tears again. There was only one left, but he wasn't sure what he could possibly do for him. If… if he would just open his eyes, maybe…

"And most of all," Stanford finally continued, turning his gaze back to the fragment still in front of him. "Most of all. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you e-ever since you got me back from the other side of the portal. I'm so… I'm so sorry. I was angry. But…. truly, I was angry at m-myself. A-And I was afraid the mistakes I'd made in my youth were going to doom our u-universe. I shouldn't've been so cold to you. I shouldn't've shut you out. I-I shouldn't've evicted you from the home you'd grown to love over the years. I d-didn't acknowledge anything you've done for me over the past thirty years, just to bring me home. I wanted to reclaim everything that my own foolishness had taken from me. I didn't realize at the time th-that _you_ were one of the things that my foolishness had taken from me. I… I 'm sorry Stanley. That you've been brought to a point where you cared so little for your… f-for your own life that you could have just… tossed it aside just like that; without feeling any real loss, it's… that's on me. That's… on me."

The second fragment was looking down and away, face colored with shame; regret. Stanford gently cupped his twin's chin, and tilted his head up to look at him, to make sure his words were being heard, to convey their conviction and truth. To let Stanley know he could trust them. His eyes were sunken, dark and shadowed behind his limp grey bangs. No longer glowing fiercely with ire, they now gazed sadly back at him like fading embers.

"And… h-how can you think your life is of so little value, when it's the most important thing in the world to me! Stanley… Stanley. I'm your brother, and I've never-I've never… b-been there for you when you…. when you needed me. And I should've been. I… Stanley. I should've been."

Stanford kept his eyes locked with the man in front of him for a moment before risking another glance up to the third fragment. Still, he didn't open his eyes. The older twin stared desolately, mouth trying to work, but not quite forming words. He closed his eyes, and his head bowed to his chest as if made of lead.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, voice trembling in desperation. He couldn't have come so far only to have failed here and now. He couldn't have! He wasn't leaving here without his brother. "I'm sorry I've done this to you. I'm sorry I've hurt you like this. I…. please. Please. Please. I know after everything you've been through, it may be hard to believe… b-but I love you, Stanley….s-so much. P-Please trust me… "

His voice finally trailed off into barely audible, senseless mumbling, as he stared at the water gently ebbing around them. Tears dripped down his face, and his nose ran. He knew his face was a complete mess, but he no longer bothered to try and wipe it away. His breath hitched with quiet sobs as he cried.

A gentle tug on his sleeve brought him out of his despondency. He sniffed and glanced over to see what it was. Stanley's first fragment, his childlike form, was clutching his coat and smiling softly up at him. His eyes shone brightly with a fierce, deep assurance. After a moment, he turned and looked back towards the horizon, an orange hue gently shining on his young face. Stanford blinked and turned to follow his gaze. Vibrant color had flooded back into the mindscape, and a dazzling orange sunrise shone brilliantly on them all, reflecting off the now blue water with a breathtaking radiance.

Stanford realized the entirety of beach they were standing one had changed. It was no longer just the heart of his own mindscape anymore. It was now a memory. An important memory, for both of them. This was the beach from their shared childhood, where he remembered being so full of life and joy with his brother at his side. It held a lot of meaning in its deceptively shallow waters.

Together, he and the other two fragments watched as the sky was filled with the soft hues of the dawn. The light glinted off the ruined portal as the sun rose behind it, completely washing out the final fragment in it's overwhelming light.

After he'd finished taking in the vivid golden rays of the sunrise, Stanley's youngest fragment moved toward his counterpart and held out a hand for him to take. The 'Scary one' hesitated for a moment, before slowly letting go of Stanford's hand, and wrapping his own large one around the child's much smaller one. The boy grinned proudly, and gave him a small tug. "Come on."

He still seemed uncertain. "I… I'm scared," he confessed quietly. "I don't want to be hurt again."

"Then let me protect ya. You've protected us for so long …. but you can finally rest. Right now, we need love to help us heal. We need our family." The child glanced at the third fragment. "And I have a pretty good feeling he'd agree with me." His face softened and he looked back to his dark fragment. "There's always a chance that people are gonna end up hurting us when we let them get in close. But at the same time, we're never going to stop being in pain if we keep pushin' people away. It may be a gamble, but for the price of our and Stanford's lives, for the opportunity of seeing the kids, and Soos, and all our friends again…"

Stanley turned to Stanford, smiled brightly and winked. "That's a gamble I'm willing to take."

He tugged on the other's hand again with a gentle insistence. Finally, the second fragment moved forward reluctantly trailing after his younger counterpart. The worn man paused for the briefest of moments to look back over his shoulder at his brother.

"Sorry," he rasped quietly, and Stanford felt a sudden warmth wash over him. He looked down at himself, and was surprised to see his wounds had healed over, the stabbing pain was gone from his aching limbs and body. Even his glasses were replaced and whole. Stanford looked back up to perhaps voice his thanks, but then decided to just remain silent, enjoying the moment for what it was. The sea-breeze gently swayed his hair and clothes as he watched the two pieces of his twin approach the base the of the portal.

The shining sunlight flared within the circular frame of the ruined portal. A blinding glow dissolved their bodies away into gleaming white particles that danced upwards to where the third part of their soul slumbered. Stanford was forced to cover his eyes with his arm as the center shone with a sudden radiance. By the time it had died back down, the three fragments had finally reunited, settling back together to form the whole, unbroken soul of his brother.

Stanford stood quietly for a few moments, now alone, as the blue, sun-streaked waves swelled and ebbed placidly around him, lapping against the portal's shining metal base. Then from its center, a staircase materialized. It was as though it were carved out of gleaming sunlight, shimmering and transparent, but oddly solid looking all the same. It slowly descended towards the water, until it stopped directly at Stanford's feet.

He gingerly placed his foot on the first step, and breathing deeply, Stanford began his ascent up the stairs to the center of the portal, where his brother waited.


	6. Chapter 6

pinesinthewoods: Well here it is guys, the final chapter, the day right before the finale comes out! This chapter ties up a lot of loose ends in the story, and we hope you like it. More author's notes at the end of the chapter!

notthistimespock: I think my favorite part in Towards the Sun was that moment Stanford put his foot on that first sun-carved step. All throughout this story we've just had him constantly moving downward and descending further and further into madness, but that was the point where it all turned around and he started ascending again, and it's such a powerful moment.

* * *

 _"We have lived in fear, and our fear has betrayed us_

 _But we will overcome the apathy that has made us_

 _Because we are not alone in the dark with our demons_

 _And we have made mistakes_

 _But we've learned from them"_

 _"And the sun, it does not cause us to grow_

 _It is the rain that will strengthen your soul_

 _And it will make you whole"_

 _'I Have Made Mistakes' - The Oh Hello's_

* * *

A rush of heat immediately soaked up through the sole of Stanford's boot as he moved to the next sun carved step. The warmth was surprisingly intense as it crept across his toes, stretched up his ankles, and further dried his slightly damp socks, a somewhat pleasant contrast to the chilling mist that was seeping up from the cold briny waters several meters below. He stumbled a little on another weightless slab of golden glass, trying to orient his unsteady legs beneath him before sparing a glance up to his destination; the plateau of twisted metal and rubble that lay beneath the portal's eye.

This was strange… all of it, Stanford noted as he paused in his ascent, gingerly shifting his weight to look back out upon the heart of his mindscape. A brackish breeze sweeping up from his right side made his grey hair flash in the sunlight and gently dance across the lenses of his glasses as he attentively scrutinized the landscape.

Things were uncannily still and peaceful; at least compared to how they had been before. The memory of the beach itself now held the same air about it as the tentative, clear dawn after a raging storm, a sigh of relief at the end of a horrifying tempest. Deep, dark blue hues were slowly brightening and stretching themselves out upon the water and sun-crested horizon of the sky. Foam-peaked waves crashed softly against the familiar shoreline as rhythmically as a heartbeat, and rolled languidly across the sand leaving behind shining streaks that reflected back the early morning light like a bright mirror.

Whatever violent trembling and madness had been on the verge of tearing this whole dimension down around them just a short while ago seemed distant. In fact, if it weren't for the deep craters, scars, and bits of burnt boat that marred the cream-colored sand behind him, Stanford might have almost been able to convince himself that none of the previous fight had even happened at all. _Almost_.

Even this memory, it seemed, had its boundaries.

At a certain point further inland the vibrant light and color that now saturated the beach around him stopped abruptly. It drained to an ever familiar sepia-toned canvas as though it had hit some kind of invisible curtain or barrier. Soft sand and crystal clear skies gave way to spiky tufts of dim bronze grass, shadowy pines that towered eerily over the empty field, and a hazy, smoke-washed skyline. It was a somewhat melancholy sight that filled Stanford with opposing feelings of warm nostalgia and cynical detachment the longer he gazed upon it. He could make out the soft squeaking of a swing set just above the constant roar of water rushing below him, echoing from somewhere in the monochrome wheatfield beyond.

Yes, Stanford mused as his eyes wistfully trailed back down to the shoreline, it was more than a little strange that the center of his brother's mind had been the portal room, _his_ portal room that _he himself_ had originally built and constructed, while his own center was… this. Glass Shard Beach, the embodiment of their shared childhood. If he'd been forced to predict which mindscape had belonged to each of them before this whole mess, Stanford would have guessed the opposite with an almost absolute certainty. And that… bothered him slightly, though at first, he couldn't exactly put his finger on why.

 _I guess because it just goes to show how little I really understand Stanley. How little I… understand myself._

Stanford winced at that uncomfortable truth. He wasn't a huge fan of self-reflection, of going back over his mistakes and… examining how they'd come about. Usually, he was the sort of person who, if something didn't work out, preferred to just toss it and focus on the next task that lay before him. It had always seemed easy for him to leave the past in the past; to accept failure if it happened, which was a key part of being a scientist and inventor anyways, and to keep moving forward without worrying about what kind of trail he was leaving in his wake.

But this recent string of disasters, from Bill outwitting him, to the rift splitting open, to his own twin brother's desperate sacrifice, had forced him to step more than a little bit outside of his comfort zone. After all, it was his inability to deal with roadblocks, either intellectual or emotional, that had been the deciding cause of nearly all those problems in the first place. How different would things be now if thirty years ago, instead of summoning a triangular muse for aid when he'd hit that dead end in his research, he'd simply gone back over and more thoroughly examined what the warnings, tapestries, and murals were trying to tell him? Stanford could only speculate, but considering how close his current circumstances had brought both himself and his twin to the edge of death, almost anything seemed an improvement.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he supposed that the focus of their respective mindscapes did, at least, make a bit of sense. In a similar fashion to the way Stanley usually presented his true feelings, the center of his twin's mind had been something close and ever-present, yet masked, hiding beneath the surface of much more obvious and benign problems. The impossibly large, hollow, and burnt Stan O' War twisted around Stanford's prophetic secrecy, designs, and machinery: Stanley's despair for a ruined past cloaking an uncertain hope for the future. Meanwhile, the focus of Stanford's own mind been out in the open, but distant and detached from the rest of him. Something that was familiar and brought him comfort, but also haunted him like a well-worn picture frame that had been purposely placed face down. A reminder at the same time that it was a warning. As much an old friend as it was an old wound.

The comparison made something in the center of Stanford's chest squirm, and he allowed himself one more weighty, tired sigh before turning back around and resuming his ascent. He carefully eyed the gap between the next couple of stairs before adding a bit of a hop to his step and landing soundlessly on the next sunlit slab. If it hadn't been for the ordeals he'd just been forced to experience, Stanford mused while gracefully regaining his balance, then he might have actually been able to take some comfort in all of this. But as things were now…

Dark copper eyes trailed upward to the radiant sunrise shining through the center of the portal, obscuring the whole and complete figure that Stanford assumed to be therein. His jaw set into a tight grimace, and he squinted at his destination with all the focused intensity of a runner fixated on the finish line.

Well… maybe he would be able to enjoy it better once he'd confirmed for himself that Stanley was ok. Maybe they both would be able to enjoy it.

The angle of the sun's rays was gradually beginning to change as Stanford ascended, just enough that he could finally make out the basic form of his twin still hanging limply within the portal's inner ring, suspended by several long dark lines that he guessed to be lengths of chain. Light from the sunrise was softly coloring the edges of Stanley's silhouette in a vivid saffron tint, bright enough that it glinted off his messy gray hair and glasses, though it couldn't stretch so far as to illuminate his shadowed chest.

As Stanford focused in more on his brother's condition, his own body staggering slightly as he nearly missed the next step, he was relieved to note that the tell-tale orange glow of the Y shaped gash that had previously marred Stanley was now absent. Even the grisly injuries inflicted upon him by his second fragment were fading away before Stanford's eyes, leaving the areas of his suit where he had been cut hanging loosely from his body.

For a moment Stanford's shoulders sagged in relief at the sight, only to abruptly stiffen again he now began to process the implications of his brother's still slumped forward posture. "Stanley!" He called, his brows furrowing sharply in a mixture of wariness and confusion when he didn't receive a response.

Before he knew it Stanford found himself rushing up the last few steps, only half aware of the movement of his own feet beneath him. He barely stopped to right himself as he stumbled across the place where the top of the sun-carved staircase met the portal's small rubble ledge. Stanford quickly sped across the uneven scrap heap and skid to a halt directly in front of his brother. He spared a second to curse at Stanley's slack and unconscious expression before clumsily weaving his fingers beneath the surprisingly cool chains wrapped around his shoulder, yanking at them sharply.

"What are these still doing here," he breathlessly griped, trying to pull, stretch, and carefully untangle Stanley from the dark restraints till the tips of his fingers were bright red and nearly numb with cold. For a solid three minutes, the most prominent sound in the area was that of clinking metal and increasingly frustrated grunting as he futilely tugged at the bonds.

"Oh come on," Stanford growled, the chains once again slipping from his grip and stubbornly snapping back into place. He took a step back to collect himself while rubbing his stinging hands, jaw set tightly as his eyes raked over his brother's form. What was he doing wrong? What was he missing? It occurred to Stanford after a moment that, this being the mindscape, it would make more sense to just imagine the chains away. He concentrated, giving the restraints a long and hard stare, visualizing the bright rays of the sun burning through the inky bonds in the way that light was usually supposed to cut away at shadows, trying to use the sheer force of his will to remove and erase them.

But nothing happened. The dark chains didn't loosen, or dissipate, or fade. Not even a little.

 _I-I don't understand. Why isn't this working? Why is are they still-_ Oh. Stanford's eyes slid back over to his brother's heavily lined and exhausted expression as it finally dawned on him that there was something slightly… off about it. Stanley was clearly out cold, but there was an oddly stony set to the grimace on his face. A look of resignation unsettlingly morphed with determination. The older twin's brows furrowed in surprise and apprehension as his sense of reason managed to sift its way past his frayed nerves and catch up with the rest of his mind. Of course, he wouldn't be able to imagine the restraints away, not if someone else was countering him by willing them to stay there. As unpleasant as this was to conclude, the mindscape was completely empty aside from the two of them, meaning that there was simply no one else who could've been doing it.

Stanford let out an unsteady breath, half in frustration, half in unease. A part of Stanley must have still been fighting to keep the chains shackled around himself, though for what reason, he couldn't even begin to guess. Stanford had thought he'd managed to reach some sort of accord with his brother's second fragment, but if he was still trying to hold them both here in the mindscape then there had obviously been a misunderstanding.

Grabbing onto his brother's shoulders, Stanford began to gently shake him. "Stanley. Stanley, please," he whispered hoarsely, his tone somewhere between begging and commanding. "You're almost there. You're almost there. Please wake up. Things are going to be okay now, Stan. We're going to make them okay."

The ocean below was swelling and tugging at the base of the ruined portal, and Stanford could feel every pulse of the churning surf through his feet as it made the unstable structure tremble. He stared intently at his twin, expression reassuring and hopeful at first, but as the waves continually slammed into rubble again and again, and as the seconds ticked by without Stanley giving any indication that he'd even heard his brother's plea, his tentative smile began to waver. As his eyes traced more thoroughly over the blank lifelessness of Stanley's face, passive and unaware, his own mouth finally twitched down. The weight and dejection behind his grimace felt as though it had aged him a decade.

"I… I don't…" He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe for Stanley to laugh, or give a groggy smile while making some snide comment, or even try to argue back at him. Why wasn't he? What was wrong? Hadn't they fixed things yet?

Stanford winced and blinked hard, his musings interrupted by honey-colored rays of morning light beginning to creep back down his forehead and into his eyes. The dawn, it seemed, had somehow caught back up to him, and he was forced to shift his stance more deeply into the shadow cast by the towering wreckage of the portal to avoid being blinded by it.

This was… odd. A few minutes ago he could've sworn that the sun had just reached itself from the shimmering mirror of the ocean below, but now instead of rising any further it appeared to have started sinking again, bleeding reds, purples, and bright golds into the deep blue sky above. Stanford stared past his brother and watched the foreboding spectacle for a moment or two before his eyes trailed down again to his own hand resting on Stanley's shoulder. His fingers weaved through the soft black fabric of his twin's frayed collar, and tightened till his knuckles turned bone white.

"I've bared my own soul to yours…." he murmured, bowing his head and glaring at the twisted metal scrap twinkling in the dying sunlight beneath them. "What else can I possibly do?"

There was no answer to Stanford's query. Aside from his chest softly rising and falling in time to the churning surf below, Stanley remained deathly still. Stanford's eyes began wetting slightly in the corners, though he was loathe to admit it even just to himself, shining with a mixture of anger and dread. The previous peace and quiet of the mindscape was starting to feel suffocating in it's continued silence. There was no way he was going to leave the mindscape alone. There was no way. There was no wa-

 _"Perhaps you need to accept that there are some things you just can't change."_

Stanford's eyes widened as he was caught off guard by a sudden raspy voice, his body jolting so sharply in surprise that he tore off the piece of his brother's collar that he'd been grabbing. Immediately he acted on his first instinct and looked up to see if it had been Stanley who'd spoken, but all it took was a quick glance to confirm that the con man was still quite comatose. It couldn't have been him.

An urgent thrill of awareness ran up Stanford's spine like an ice cold finger tracing itself between the vertebrae of his back. He pivoted sharply around, eyes darting back and forth across the small uneven ledge to try and catch sight of… whatever else was here with them. Aside from himself and Stanley the area appeared to be empty, though that didn't exactly ease his racing heart or paranoia. Sparing one more look back at Stanley just to be sure, Stanford reluctantly left his side and shuffled over to the edge of the rubble platform, intent on looking down to see if there was something perhaps hiding from him in the foaming waves at the base of the structure. A series of splashes rang up from the sea below as he leaned over the edge, knocking loose a few bits of metal scrap in his efforts to be thorough, but he didn't notice anything unusual or out of the ordinary.

"D-didn't someone…" Stanford murmured, bewildered. He turned back around to once more visually sweep over the small platform, beginning to wonder if he'd actually heard a voice, or if his own understandably tired mind had just been playing tricks on him. But… no. No, he was sure that something else was present here with them, regardless of whether or not it was showing itself. The eerie sensation of some foreign presence burning its eyes into the back of his neck, watching him from somewhere unseen, was undeniable.

Unease started spiraling in the center his gut, and Stanford did his best to cover it by boldly addressing the empty air. "Come out. I know you're here." He paused to wait for a reply, but none was given. Still scanning around, he slowly began making his way back to where his brother was hanging, glasses flashing brightly in the sun as he walked from beneath the portal's shadow into the small circle of light its hollow center provided. "Whatever you are," he offered as a final warning, "unless you plan on helping me get my brother down, I suggest you leave."

 _"He can't hear a word you're saying."_

Even suspecting that something else was here with them, Stanford still nearly tripped over his feet as the abrupt voice startled him for a second time. He whipped around, eyes flitting wildly as he once again scanned the length of the platform.

 _"He's already too far gone; closed off to any other potential fate than what he first chose when he jumped into the rift. You can't reach him."_

Stanford couldn't identify where exactly the voice was coming from. It sounded near, almost right on top of him, but despite this, he still couldn't see anyone in his general vicinity. At least now that he'd gotten to hear it a second time he was able to confirm that it definitely didn't belong to either Stanley or himself. The voice had a worn and hoarse quality that fit an older man, but Stanford couldn't say that he really recognized it. Or, at the very least, he couldn't match it to a face. Still, there was something… undeniably familiar about the tired, hopeless tone it possessed, something that tugged slightly at the back of his mind.

"Where are you? Who said that?!"

 _"At your feet."_

Stanford's gaze immediately shot down. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary at first, simply the shadows cast by both himself and his brother lying side by side, framed by the circle of golden twilight. But… there was something that wasn't quite right about the dark shapes stretched out on the platform; one of them at least. A thrill of goosebumps crawled its way up the base of his neck and shoulders as Stanford stared down at his brother's shadow. Its silhouetted head suddenly twisted, as it turned to face Stanford's own shadow. The older twin hastily stumbled back a few steps, boots scraping noisily over rumble, and he cast a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm that Stanley himself hadn't moved.

But his brother was just as comatose as ever. The shadow had done this independently, and unfortunately, that wasn't the only unsettling thing about it.

"Who-… What are you?" Stanford tried forcing his tone to come across as calm and demanding, but he couldn't quite keep uncertainty from coloring it. While the shade was relatively in the same position that it should have been to be coming from his brother, lying prone with its arms spread-eagle similarly to its hanging counterpart, the dark lines that the chains should have been cast along with it were noticeably absent. Stanley's shadow almost looked more like the toppled-over silhouette of a scarecrow than something that was being forcibly bound; a hanging puppet with its strings missing.

Though what perhaps disturbed Stanford more than this was just how different the figure seemed from his own shadow on even a basic level; different than the dark shape made by the portal itself. Somehow it was much more solid, vivid, and intense than any of the other shades, so pitch black that the rough cut of the rubble that should've still been visible beneath was completely buried by the inky darkness his twin cast. It reminded Stanford of how he'd felt when he'd descended into the heart of his brother's mindscape with the first fragment in tow, looking down upon the weak light provided by the elevator. The silhouette of an adult with a child anxiously clinging to his pant leg had been stretched out below, a dim glowing rectangle all that separated them from the unnatural darkness that saturated the rest of the basement. Up to this point, he'd assumed that the one who'd been watching him and his brother's younger counterpart the whole time they were in the lab had simply been the second fragment taunting and trying to unnerve them. But… _Was it possible…_

Back when he'd first felt that presence in the dark, he'd realized that there had been something unnatural and abstract about it. While the 'scary one' himself was a force to be reckoned with, terrifying in his unrestrained anger, he didn't quite give off the same eerie and unsettling pressure this shadow did. It also hadn't escaped Stanford's notice that the darkness curling itself around that part of Stanley had seemed at times to 'act out' and possess a will of its own.

"You… you're the shadow that was attached to that piece of my brother earlier," Stanford mused aloud, finally voicing his growing suspicions and glaring down at the dark shape below. "Aren't you."

The shadow once again moved independently from Stanley, nodding slightly. " _Yes,"_ it rasped. _"The darkness that greeted you at the bottom of the basement and brought fear into the heart of the younger one. The shadows that blinded, cloaked, and shielded the part of him that wanted to hate you. The black fire that scorched his soul, and scorched yours as well when you touched him. And now, the chains that bind him here, and keep him distant from you."_

"Hm." Stanford raised a brow, repositioning himself so that his own shade was a little further away from his twin's. "I wasn't aware that you were something separate from him. I thought that my brother's soul was only split into three pieces."

 _"He was."_

"Then what are you?"

The dark shape tilted its head slightly as though thinking Stanford's question over. _"A symptom,"_ it responded after a beat. " _The fever to the infection."_

"And… what exactly does that mean?" He wasn't able to stop his skepticism and distaste for the shade's cryptic answer from leaking into his tone; not that he felt particularly obliged to be polite. The shade, however, didn't seem put off by his bad attitude and explained itself indifferently in it's worn and raspy voice.

 _"I'm not part of him, but I belong to him, something he created unknowingly deep in his subconscious, like one creates a dream. Hurt, fear, hatred, guilt, despair; collected throughout his life, distilled from his memories, bottled up, and used as a reminder. A written memo etched into the backs of his eyes."_

Stanford glanced back at his brother upon hearing this, something like understanding causing his gut to squirm. "A reminder for what," he asked a bit more softly.

The shadow below shrugged as though the answer should have been obvious. _"That actions have consequences. That he shouldn't let people get too close to his heart, because they've failed him. That other people have trusted him with their heart's, and that he's failed them. And that when this happens, there's hurt."_

The sun was beginning to dip back again into the ocean, darkening the sky above into a deep blue as though it were dusk. Whatever remained of Stanford's patience seemed to be disappearing with the dying light.

"Alright… alright," he sighed, exasperatedly reaching up under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. He didn't even attempt to hide his sardonic sneer before turning back to face the 'thing' on the ground. "So… let me take what you've just told me and see if I can make some sense of it. Basically, from what I'm understanding, you're not actually a part of my brother, but a metaphysical conceptualization of his regret that's been given life and physical form thanks to the _seemingly limitless_ insanity of the mindscape."

 _"It's more than regret."_ The shadow insisted dryly, unaffected by the sudden temper of the man standing above him.

"Yes, yes, of course it is," Stanford barked, throwing his hands up and gesturing dramatically. He stalked over to the shade and leaned down to address it more directly, his tone icy and condescending. "Well, whatever you are, if you know what's good for you then I'll tell you what you're going to do; you're going to release my brother, and you're going to do it right now! I've already taken a trip through the hell of the nightmare realm in order to get him back, traversed across the crumbling pocket of the mindscape we were both crammed into, _and_ helped put the pieces of his soul back together after he was split into three. If you really think that after all of that, that I'm just going to give up because some abstract embodiment of my brother's regret is trying to keep him chained up here, then you've got another thing coming. I'm someone who's spent the last _thirty years_ wandering the multiverse! There's next to nothing I could possibly come across that would weird out or surprise me, and I'm certainly not going to be dissuaded by the likes of you!"

The shadow didn't respond immediately to Stanford's rant, and the silence that stretched between them was only broken by the sound of the ocean splashing and churning at the portal's base. " _Stubbornness is one of the many traits that the two of you share, but it's hardly the only one,"_ it finally rasped, deliberately swiveling its head so that it once again seemed to be looking directly at Stanford's own shadow. _"Neither of you do as good a job of hiding it as you think you do. Perhaps you should fix your own heart before tampering with that of others."_

"I'm not hiding anything," Stanford stubbornly asserted, placing his hands behind his back. The dark shape beneath him didn't seem convinced. It didn't even bother looking back at him, simply continuing to stare intently into where his own shadow's eyes would have been.

 _"It's no surprise that you're able to grasp the concept behind my existence as easily as you do. You can see his shadow clearly because he's not aware enough of himself right now to try and hide it as he normally would. But there's a similar strain of me in you as well."_

Stanford gave a small snort of disagreement, "I doubt that." He took a step to the right in an attempt to prevent the entity from staring at his shadow any further. A chill ran up his arms as he left the dim circle of warm orange twilight, and both he and his shade were quickly swallowed up in the darkness cast by the rest of the portal. He wasn't going to stand there and let this 'thing' just examine him under a microscope. "If you're referring to my own shadow, then it seems normal enough right now. And even if it is off in some way, at least it's not currently chaining me up and holding me hostage in the mindscape, now is it."

Undeterred, the shadow's gaze lingered over at where Stanford's own should have been in the gloom, as though it could still see the dark shape. _"It's chaining your hands behind your back."_

Stanford abruptly stiffened as though he'd been slapped, his mask of calm certainty fracturing for an instant. The shade continued on coolly as though it hadn't really said anything important, or didn't notice his reaction. _"For you it's shame. Shame of what you are hiding, even from yourself. Shame of an anomaly that has branded you your whole life, either as a prodigy who changed the world, or as a fool who helped bring about its destruction."_

Stanford couldn't think of anything to say back to that. He kept his hands behind him, unconsciously tracing his six fingers across the edge of his palm. His posture was stiff and defensive. The indifferent, matter-o-fact way that the insinuation had been delivered tied his tongue better than any cruel or angrily spoken insult could have. At this moment, it was all he could do to be glad that he was standing in the portal's shade so that the sudden rush of heat that crept into his cheeks was hidden.

" _Your shadow only looks normal to you because you're used to it."_ His brother's silhouette finally turned it's head back to face Stanford himself. _"He can't see his clearly either, doesn't notice that it's darker than it should be, because for him that's normal. To you, it seems strange that the shadow he casts is so potent in its darkness, like a black fire. But yours… yours is made of stone. If you could step beneath your own shadow, you would marvel that something so intangible could carry so much weight. Yours is a guilty plea in the darkness, a knife across your arm-"_

"Enough," Stanford snapped, managing to find his voice again even if it was bit shakier than he would have liked. He brought his hands back out and clenched them tightly at his sides. "Enough! I'm not discussing this with… whatever you are. Just let go of my brother!"

The shade gave its head a patronizing shake as though denying an impatient child, then it twisted its inky wrists to gesture vaguely at itself. _"What sense is it to ask the hammer to stop hammering, instead of the person wielding it."_

"What?"

 _"You should be talking to him, not me,"_ it retorted impassively. _"I'm merely the restraints. I don't choose how I'm used, nor do I care."_

Stanford snarled, glaring down at his brother's manifested regret with all the icy vehemence he could muster. "I'm not in the mood to play whatever game this is! Release Stanley now, before I imagine something that will eradicate you." He raised his brow. "Perhaps an especially strong ray of sunlight."

 _"You really think that you can get rid of me like that?"_

"I washed you off from part of him once already," he shot back. "I can do it again."

The dark figure below was silent for a beat or two. It was hard to tell with it being a featureless shade, but it almost seemed to Stanford that it was intently watching the sun set into the horizon; waiting for something. The shadows around them, itself included, stretched a little longer as the coppery light waned and dimmed. A rush of goosebumps ominously crawled up Stanford's neck as he pondered the haunting spectacle sprawled at his feet.

 _"No, you didn't."_ It eventually shook its silhouetted head, making a small noise of what Stanford could only guess to be amusement. " _Not directly at least. You convinced him to loosen his tightly clenched hold around me, but ultimately it was he who let me go. You can't take away the darkness in someone's heart for them, no matter how hard you try. Only they themselves can release it if they choose."_

"Well then, why isn't he choosing to release himself," Stanford demanded. "What's holding him back?"

 _"He used me as a shroud before, something that reminded him to close himself off in order to keep from being hurt by you. But as these chains, my function has been the opposite: to protect you from him."_

Dim crimson twilight flashed across Stanford's glasses as he tilted his head, his expression a mixture of puzzled, frustrated, and uncertain. "To… protect me!?"

The shadow nodded. _"As the restraints that bind him now, I'm drawn from a very specific set of memories. The expression of despair etched onto your face as you stood in the second story window, and looked down at the pamphlet to the dream school that you would never get into. The sound of your voice frantically screaming for his help as you floated up into the blue light of the portal. The drawing of a sailboat in the third journal crossed out with heavy black strokes. The thirty years worth of disappointment and anger behind the force of the punch you gave him when you first stepped out of the portal."_

It paused here for a moment. Despite its lack of eyes, Stanford felt as though the dark shape was staring intently up at him. _"Do you understand what these mean,"_ it asked more softly than it had ever spoken before. _"It wasn't just coincidence that he tightened the chains around himself every time he was about to do something especially cruel to you."_

"I don't…" Stanford could do little more than just stare dumbstruck for a couple of moments. His capability to form coherent sentences seemed to be failing him as he struggled to make sense of what the silhouette was trying to convey. "I-I thought he was just doing that out of self-hatred. Because he didn't want to continue… living as a failure."

 _"And why do you think he felt himself enough of a failure to be satisfied with his own existence ending,"_ the shade countered. _"It's a terrible cycle, isn't it. `All his life he's disappointed and hurt the ones he loved. He's even hurt and disappointed himself. But dead men feel no pain, and neither can they cause pain to others. I am here to prevent him from leaving the mindscape with you, and perhaps stop him from hurting you, himself, or anyone else he cares about in the future."_

"You can't just-" Stanford tried, but his brother's shadow quickly cut him off.

 _"I can,"_ it hissed obstinately. _"And now that I have the feeling of your throat under his hands as he just nearly ended both of your lives, it will be impossible to remove me. The need for him to protect you from himself outweighs his need to go home."_

Stanford silently gazed down at the shade, his brows furrowing introspectively as he took its statement in. The rubble that the inky black shape was splashed across was scarlet tinged now, lit by the early evening glow shining through the portals eye. It's very appearance implied a certain threat, a menacing energy, but while the figure undeniably held an eerie and unsettling quality to it, Stanford found that it woke in him something more akin to a somber pity than fear. It really was exactly what it had claimed to be in the end. Nothing more than a symptom of a larger problem.

The look of regret and shame on the second fragment's face flashed through Stanford's mind. Then he remembered the first fragment's as well, alight with assurance. _That's a gamble I'm willing to take_ , he had said. Somewhere in his brother's heart, he held the willpower to go home, Stanford was certain of that.

Eyes flashing in a sudden burst of resolute energy, Stanford turned back around to face his twin, and began shaking him roughly. His shouting rang out above the muted thundering of the surf. "Enough of this! Stanley… Stanley, I know you want to live. I know that want to go home and see your family again, and you can do that if you just-…" The words stuck in his throat a little as he watched his twin's head continue to wobble lifelessly back and forth. "If you…. Look, you've forgiven me, but that's not enough. You have to forgive yourself too."

The only response was silence from his brother, and the distant cry of seagulls drifting through the breeze. Stanley's expression in the dim red light was chillingly blank and reserved, and Stanford went quiet as well for a moment, the salty sea wind gently fanning his hair and rippling his trenchcoat out behind him.

Abruptly he snapped again, tone frigid as he lost his temper even further. "Stanley, look. I'm fine, see!" He reached up to yank his turtleneck down and ran his fingers along his neck for emphasis. "No bruises, no blood, it's like we didn't even get into a fight in the first place, and I'm sure that the same is true for you. This is the mindscape, so the damage that was done here was all perception based anyways. It didn't actually h-hurt me."

Stanford's composure faltered as he stumbled slightly on the last words, not quite able to hide the hesitation in his voice. He winced and turned his head away from Stanley, allowing his gaze to fall down to the waters frothing and shimmering brightly in the crimson dusk.

"I guess… it wouldn't make any sense to lie to you like that," he murmured softly after a beat. "You've always been surprisingly perceptive when it comes to whether or not people are telling the truth, and I'm not exactly a master in the art of deception." He worked up the nerve to look up at his brother's face again, an emotion that couldn't quite identify shining in his eyes, and bleeding into his tone. "No, you didn't hurt me physically because there's really no such thing in the mindscape, but that wasn't the only way that you were attempting to cause me pain. Still, punishing yourself for that isn't going to do either of us any good. You know this Stanley, I know that you already know this." Stanford's voice seemed to find its strength again, and his gaze hardened as tightened his grip on his twin. "So stop being such a knucklehead and snap out of it! "

Stanley's shadow offered a retort from over Stanford's shoulder, its raspy weathered voice almost sneering. _"Ironic that a man who never listens to his own heart is now advising someone else to listen to theirs. You of all people should be able to appreciate the logic behind cutting yourself off from others to spare them from the burden of your own mistakes. After all, your heavy, heavy shadow tells me that you do this yourself on a regular basis. You would rather take on the role of Atlas and risk getting crushed by carrying the weight of the entire world upon your own shoulders, than count on others to come to your aid. You push them all away, isolate and punish yourself for the damage your actions have wrought. A man who always tries to handle everything on his own, who would readily sacrifice his own life to atone for his sins and prevent a future crisis, has no room to criticize others who would do the same."_

"And look just where that's gotten me! And everyone else for that matter," Stanford shot back furiously, eyes flashing brightly as he whipped around and glared at the dark shape. It was now stretched to an unsettling length in the dying light. His breathing was coming out more rapidly than he wanted, desperation and frantic anger tearing at the back of his mind. _It didn't make any sense! Why was the sun setting now instead of rising? Why was this 'thing' still here? H-how could he- What could he- Wait. Wait!_

Stanford's eyes widened as he suddenly realized where he recognized the shadow's voice from. That… that was it! The world-weary and raspy tone belonged to the old hermit from Stanley's memory, the one he'd stumbled across while hiding from the second fragment. Stanford supposed that explained a few things about the shade. After all, it had essentially told him that it was comprised of negative feelings that his brother associated with certain recollections. It had even gone into detail explaining which ones made up the chains that were currently holding Stanley in place.

Stanford turned back to his twin, an idea suddenly striking him. He couldn't escape the past, could he. Very well then. If it was memories that had gotten them both into this mess, then he was determined that memories were now going to get them out, and he had a particular one in mind to deal with his brother's stubbornness.

Unconsciously Stanford's grim expression melted to something more somber and wistful as he finally let go of his twin's shoulder. He walked over to the edge of the small rubble platform, hands loosely clasped behind his back as his gaze fell to the twilight colored shoreline splayed out below. "Stanley… d-do you remember the summer of second grade," he softly inquired, concentrating on changing something about the beach's landscape. "The day I almost drowned?"

The mindscape responded immediately to the memory that he was calling upon. A small of movement out of the corner of his eye drew Stanford's attention to his left, where much, _much_ younger versions of Stanley and himself appeared to be loitering just a short distance away from the water's edge. Stanley's counterpart had his hands cupped behind his head, a bored yet content expression eased onto his face as he watched his brother fiddle around beside him. Meanwhile, the eight-year-old Stanford was staring upwards into the sky, his arms twisting in a series of odd and almost comical directions as he tried to correct his kite's wayward trajectory.

"We had taken my kite out to the beach," the older Stanford murmured over his shoulder, narrating the recollection playing out below for his brother. "The one I had spent weeks modifying to pick up on radio frequencies that are usually to faint to be registered by regular devices. I had hoped that by flying my makeshift satellite high enough I would find some sort of secret alien message and prove the existence of extraterrestrial life once and for all. That was actually a very foolish way of going about it, looking back."

A small smile made its way onto Stanford's face at this. A child's perception of the world was always a fascinating thing. He wondered how his younger self might have reacted if he'd known that one day he'd come to consider contact with aliens to be mundane.

Down on the beach below his still quite naive and inexperienced counterpart was having a bit of trouble, scowling slightly as gave the kite a particularly hard tug to the right. He made a noise of displeasure as his glasses nearly slipped off his nose from the movement, and a moment later he passed the reel to the boy next to him. _"Hey, could you hang onto this for a minute."_

Stanley's face broke out into a grin at the offer. He took the spool of kite string and shot his twin a mischievous raise of his eyebrow. _"Sure, I'm great at kite flying. Betcha ten bucks I can make it do a flip."_

 _"Stanley, I have sensitive equipment up there. If you start fooling around you're gonna mess up my calibrations. Just hold it steady."_

"I remember that I'd given you the kite for a moment so I could fish out my notebook and write down a memo for later,"Stanford continued, brow furrowing slightly as his memory began to get a little fuzzy. "Something about adjusting the receiving dish so that it wouldn't interfere as much with the kite's lift. I'm… not sure what happened after that. I'd been too absorbed in my own work to really pay attention. Either the wind had died down, or you'd fumbled with the reel, or something else to that effect had happened, and my kite was sent crashing into the ocean."

A splash rang up from the sea beyond in conjunction with Stanford's statement. His and Stanley's younger selves stared out at the place where the kite had just taken a nosedive into the water, the former with an expression of slack-jawed horror, the later wincing in sympathy.

 _"Eh, oops."_

 _"Stanley, what did you do!? My satellite!"_

"It had been too heavy," Stanford noted, giving his head a weary shake, "and the line snapped as soon as we tried to pull it back in. It was as good as gone out there in the open waters, but I didn't want to accept that. I'd been so upset after being forced to watch all my hard work go down the drain before even really getting a chance to test it out for myself, and you…" He hesitated, gazing at the unconscious man on the platform with him, and then to the youth trying to placate his own counterpart down on the shoreline below.

" _Whelp, that's a bummer."_ Stanley groused, appearing more annoyed than upset. _"Looks like we're not gonna get to have cool space adventures anytime soon. Maybe if I can nick us a couple 'f popsicles on our way back this trip won't have been a total waste."_ The younger Stanford stared at his twin aghast.

 _"What about my satellite!?"_

Stanley shrugged. _"What about it? It's probably already sunk to the bottom of the ocean Poindexter, we're not gonna be able to find it."_ He waved his hand dismissively, beginning to walk away. _" You can just start on a new one when we get back home."_

The image of his broken perpetual motion machine flashed across Stanford's mind as he observed this small exchange, and it took some effort for him to dismiss it along with the rush of bitterness and dismay that followed. "You'd barely seemed to care," he finished dully, watching the rest of the memory play out.

 _"Just start a new one!?"_ His eight-year-old counterpart balked. _"Do you have any idea how hard it was to make that, how much allowance I had to save up just to buy the parts?! We have to go in after it."_

 _"It landed all the way over by the buoys,"_ Stanley retorted. _"You remember what ma said, we're not supposed to go out that far."_

 _"We'll just have to be careful, and since when have you started caring about following the rules anyways."_

 _"We're not going in after it Ford,"_ his twin firmly insisted, crossing his arms. _"It's just a dumb kite. We can alway-."_

 _"You know what, fine!"_ The younger Stanford cut the other boy off before he could finish, sharply pivoting around and walking towards the ocean. _"I don't need your help. I'll find it by myself!"_

He didn't get very far before he was jerked to a halt by his brother's firm grip on his wrist. _"Stanford-"_ Stanley's voice was a little softer now, but at the time Stanford had barely taken any notice of it. The older man watched morosely as the memory of himself roughly yanked his small arm out from his twin's grasp, and turned to point an accusing finger back at him.

 _"Let go! This whole situation's your fault in the first place. All I asked you to do was hold the reel for me for a minute and somehow you found a way to mess even that up. Why don't you go take a long walk on the beach and I'll meet back up with you when I'm finished."_

Again, his young counterpart started making his way back towards the ocean, and again, it looked as though Stanley was going to reach out and try to pull him back. This time, however, his twin hesitated, arm just hanging awkwardly for a moment in the empty air before falling back to his side as he looked away. Then his small hands clenched into fists at his side. _"Fine! But if something goes wrong I ain't helpin' you! It'll be your own fault for swimmin' out there in the first place!"_ The child Stanford gave a quick glance over his shoulder at this, but otherwise didn't stop or turn around.

"You looked so guilty and hurt after that. I remember watching you walk away, going off somewhere to mope I figured." Stanford glanced almost conspiratorially back to the real Stanley hanging in the portal beside him. He wasn't sure of how aware his brother was of what was going on around him, not very if his still lax expression was anything to go by. His face was lined, shadowed, and very weary looking in the dying light, but Stanford offered him a small smile anyways. "It's kind of funny, actually. For once it seemed that you were being the rational and cautious one, trying to dissuade me from my foolhardy mission.

His younger counterpart again drew Stanford's attention, and he gravely watched as the boy started slipping off his shirt and glasses, arranging them meticulously on the sand before rushing off towards the softly crashing surf. The older man's expression pinched with regret and a knowing anxiety.

"I wish I'd listened to you," he murmured solemnly.

The memory had originally taken place during the middle of the day, but the sun in the mindscape hadn't adjusted itself to suit this. Already it had sunk so low into the ocean that the celestial body had all but disappeared, and the last hints of red light were beginning to completely fade from the horizon. Glass Shard Beach seemed right on the edge of nightfall, it's skyline saturated by deep, dark blue and the telltale silvery-white splattering of stars that were starting to peek through. As horrifying as this memory already was to Stanford, this change in daylight made it a thousand times worse. Even at high noon, the ocean could appear titanic and imposing, and the quickly dimming seascape only emphasized this further by making it dark, enigmatic, and terrifyingly unfathomable. The older man could barely watch as his young counterpart swam out into the open waters, his small arms and legs obviously tiring quite rapidly as he tried to fight against wave after wave.

"It was too far out, " Stanford softly continued, attempting to keep his expression as stoic as possible. He still couldn't help fidgeting his hands slightly behind his stiff back, especially as the sound of his own voice spluttering and choking on saltwater began carrying up from below. "And the force of the undertow was too strong. The distance I'd swam had tired me to the point that I was helpless against the current sucking me down below the waves. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn't seem to get free."

His younger counterpart started panicking, splashing wildly around as his head kept dipping dangerously below the passing waves. The desperate cries of a small child started ringing through the mindscape. _"H-help. Sta-S-Stan-….Hel-he-"_ Another dark blue swell dragged him under, and this time Stanford didn't come back up.

"Everything… started going black then," the older man shakily admitted. "I-I thought I was going to die."

Suddenly Stanford found himself overcome by a feeling of mortal terror despite the fact that he was presently standing on solid ground. It was overpowering, the sensation of saltwater flooding his mouth and nose, pressing down heavily on top of his chest, tugging his limp body around like a rag doll. Perhaps, Stanford mused as he struggled to slow his jolting heart, he shouldn't find it so surprising that he was reacting like this. After all, this was the memory that had gotten him to mistakenly release Stanley back when they'd first fallen into the mindscape. It was dangerous. Stanford had a lot of dangerous memories. Maybe Mcgucket actually had been on to something with his device.

As though in response to his lapse, what small amount of light remained on the horizon finally disappeared, and Glass Shard Beach was abruptly thrown into a pitch black night. Stanford could only barely make out his brother still hanging limply a few feet away, and he completely lost track of where their younger counterparts were as they were swallowed by the inky gloom. The only indication of what was actually going on in the dark ocean below was the occasional sound of water choked gasps and frantic splashing that managed to work its way above the constant thunder of the surf upon the shore.

Then for a tense second, it stopped, all of it stopped, and the whole of the mindscape around them grew deathly quiet. Oddly enough, however, Stanford didn't feel disheartened about this. He knew what was going to happen next because it already had happened, almost half a lifetime ago. Though it couldn't be seen in the darkness, a warm, grateful smile was slowly dawning across the older twin's face.

"I guess I should have known that you would've never allowed something like that to happen to me. Would you, Stanley."

As abruptly as a light fixture flickering on, the sun was ricocheted out from its watery grave on the horizon high up into the light blue sky, and the whole seascape of Glass Shard Beach was thrown into blazing-bright, high noon sunlight. Stanford squinted in surprise as he was half-blinded by it, only just barely managing to catch the moment that both of their younger selves broke the shimmering gold surface of the ocean, gasping, choking, and spluttering as they fought to fill their lungs and keep their waterlogged heads above the waves. After a large amount of splashing and struggling Stanley finally managed to drag his brother up onto on red ringed life preserver he'd brought out with him, making sure that Stanford had a firm grip on it before letting go of his arm and pulling himself up onto the other side.

 _"F-Ford! Ford, are ya alright,"_ he stuttered, shivering slightly as he brushed his sopping wet bangs out of his eyes. _"Stanford!"_

 _"Yeah. F-fine, 'm fine,"_ Stanford's young counterpart managed a shaky lie. _"I'm fine."_

"Perhaps you'd wandered away initially to just mope and feel guilty," Stanford mused, eyes shining slightly as he smiled down at the scene playing out in the water below, "but it didn't take you long to realize that wasn't going to help the situation. You quickly set aside those feelings to grab a life preserver and come in after me. It's because of this that I'm still here today."

His younger self spat out a mouthful of brine-soaked drool and then gazed back at the boy floating across from him, his grimace torn between relief and shame. _"Stanley… yo-you…t-thank you,"_ he managed to choke out.

Stanley's expression was almost an exact mirror of his own before he broke it with a small grin, and from his perspective above Stanford could now tell why people sometimes had such a hard time telling them apart as kids. _"Come on,"_ his brother drawled, resting his chin tiredly against the life preserver, _"I know I said some stupid things back there, but did ya ever really doubt that I would jump in after ya?"_

"I-I.. I was the one being stupid," he berated himself. "I shouldn't have-

 _"Hey! What's happened, happened, alright,"_ Stanley interrupted, though not unkindly. _"We're both ok, and that's what matters."_ His brother's expression changed then, to something a little more somber and sincere, and he waited a beat as the waves gently tossed them to and fro before hesitantly starting again. _"Listen Ford, I… I'm really sorry about losing your kite. Even though there's not much I can do to get it back for ya, or even help to rebuild it, I promise I'll make it up to you. Heck, I can probably start_ savin' _up my allowance to buy ya the parts you're gonna need. Is… that ok?"_

A warm, genuine smile stretched across his younger self's face at this, and Stanley was quick to return it. The pair of boys and the red ring they were clinging to started fading as the memory ended, their small forms gradually being overcome by the blinding glare of the water flashing and shimmering around them. Stanford continued wistfully staring at the spot where they had disappeared for another moment or two before turning back to address the man hanging in the portal. His voice was quiet and introspective.

"I learned something important that day Stanley, something that your first fragment said, so _I know_ it's harbored in your heart somewhere." He hesitated slightly at this. The memory of the Stan O' War sitting stranded in the middle of a dingy wheatfield flashed across his mind's eye, a child's laughter echoing from somewhere on the deck above. Guilt was a heavy stone sitting in the pit of his stomach. "S-Something I wish I had remembered more often throughout the course of my life."

Stanford took a deep breath and stepped out from under the portal's shadow, closing the distance between them, and pulling to a stop half an arm's length away from the listless body of his comatose twin. The radiant light of the sun flashed across his glasses as he fixed Stanley with a steely gaze, and he spoke as lowly and sincerely as he could manage. "When you've messed up and hurt someone, hiding away and beating yourself up over it doesn't do you or anyone else any good. If you're going to feel bad and guilty about it anyways, then you might as well do anything you can to help make up for your mistake, even if it's only a little. You did this for me when you came after me with that life preserver, when you tried to earn back my scholarship money, when you retrieved me from the other side of the portal."

Something in his expression faltered here, a mixture of regret and desperation bleeding through his stoic mask, but Stanford just kept pushing forward. He reached up and gave his brother's shoulder a firm, assuring grasp. "Now I'm asking you to do this for me again, Stanley. Don't protect me, help me. If you really feel bad for the ways that you've hurt me, then don't just punish yourself. Fix it. Come back home with me, and I promise you we'll fix the damage we've done to each other togethe-"

A soft clinking sound drew Stanford's attention to the right, and his heart leapt as he saw several lengths of inky black chain slide off Stanley's arm and fall away to the mess of rubble and steel below. His face broke out into a tentative grin. He could almost imagine the youthful face of the first fragment beaming at him. "Yes, yes, there we go, Stanley…" he encouraged. Not all of the restraints had loosened, and many dark strands were still wrapped and tangled around Stanley's wrists, arms, and shoulders, but it was a start at least. Stanford began fumbling with them himself to try and help free his twin, carefully squeezing his fingers beneath the cold bite of the remaining chains and yanking at them. He tried not to scowl at the fact that they didn't seem to be budging at all.

 _"Hypocritical for you to be telling him this, when you hide your own afflictions from the light."_

Stanford had almost forgotten about the dark shape mirroring his brother on the ground behind him. His hands paused for a moment as he spared a small glance over his shoulder, observing the slightly dimmed shadow splayed out in light shining down through the portal's eye. Then he turned back around and did his best to continue ignoring it. "Come on Stanley," He hissed, giving the restraints another short and frustrated tug. "Stanley, please. Please wake up. Please just let go of this! Let me help you, and… h-help me too…."

 _"As I said before,"_ the shade rasped at Stanford's back, " _perhaps you need to accept that there are some things that you just can't change."_

"No!" Stanford whipped around again to face the dark figure at his feet, something wound tightly within him finally snapping back like a rubberband. His trench coat fluttered loudly as he sharply pivoted, and his eyes blazed with a frost-laced fury. "You're wrong. I can change my brother's heart because it's tied to mine as well. Stanley _will_ release these chains, every single one of them. And I know he'll listen to me because all this time we've been in the mindscape, even though I didn't always understand what was being said at first, I've been listening to him too. I noticed the broken swingset, and the boarded up doors. I noticed the burnt Stan O' War, and the portal room in the center of his mind. I've seen his trust, and rage, and love for me. I've felt his hurt and despair through _your_ shadows. We're connected in a way you can't possibly understand, and I _will_ reach him, no matter what!"

With that Stanford turned back and grabbed the sides of his brother's face, perhaps a little rougher than he intended to, fingers threaded through his silvery-grey hair, glaring at his slack expression with all the intensity he could muster. He knew which part of Stanley he would be appealing to. The third fragment may have been the keeper of Stanley's sense of morality, and it was probably in him that Stanley's sense of guilt for the damage he'd caused was primarily rooted. But it seemed as though whatever chains the third and the first fragments had power over had already fallen away thanks to the memory Stanford had summoned before. They weren't the ones, however, who had initially put them there, and neither did the shadows of so many negative feelings feed off from them. No, it was the second fragment who housed Stanley's will to live, it was he who was holding his twin under, and it was he whom Stanford still had to get through to.

 _"You can't reach him."_

Stanford paid no heed to the shadow's ominous warning. "You're not worthless," he began, his voice firm though a softness touched its edges. "You're not useless. You're not a burden. You're not suffocating. And you're not weak either. If anything, I'd say that you're a lot stronger than I am. You have such a big heart, and that's hurt you so badly in life. But it hasn't stopped you from loving, has it? Even with all the pain that you endured by my hand, you never stopped loving me; you never stopped being there for me."

 _"He's closed off to any other potential fate than what he first chose when he jumped into the rift."_

"The truth is…. I need you, Stanley. I always have. And I know… I know you feel as though you're protecting me by keeping yourself here…. but the thought of going back home without you… is… I can hardly bare it. It's unthinkable. I need you with me when we go home…. so we can work things out together. Please, Stan…"

Stanford let out a deep sigh, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against Stanley's. His brother's skin was cooler than his, a welcome relief compared to the sunlight beating down on the back of his neck.

"….you're unbelievably loyal, almost stupidly so. When I sent you that postcard asking for your help thirty years ago, you didn't even hesitate to come to my aid, did you?"

 _"He's already too far gone."_

Glimmering brown eyes trailed downward, numbly staring at two pairs of dusty old shoes. Black boots were planted firmly on the rubble, and the tips of Stanley's loafers just barely scraped the debris.

"And I-I… I can't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been to keep searching for me after thirty years of dead ends and failures. It must have been so hopeless. But you never gave up on me. Despite everything, you never gave up on me."

Stanford fell silent for another moment, listening to the tide ceaselessly crash onto the shoreline of Glass Shard Beach. His brows pinched together tightly, and the corners of his eyes started watering. When he spoke again his voice was small, almost lost sounding.

"People are always telling me how special I am, how important I am, how innovative and brilliant I am. But to be perfectly honest, I… I feel like such a failure. I wanted to benefit mankind, but I nearly destroyed it. I nearly destroyed you. Heh." A wry smile wormed its way onto his face, and a breathy whisper of a laugh escaped him. His shoulders shook slightly. "The way things are going now, I still might."

 _"He can't hear a word you're saying."_

Stanford closed his eyes, the rays of sunlight warming the side of his face. His weary smile was peaceful and sad.

"People always have such great things to say about me, but I… I think that if there were more people like you in the world, and…." Stanford let out a short bitter laugh. "and less people like me, then this would be a far more pleasant place to live in. If I could redo everything and start over… I would trade my genius for your loyalty in a heartbea-"

"Don't… don't you dare say that… 'bout yourself…" a gruff voice rasped in Stanford's ear, cutting him off.

Something inside Stanford jolted as he felt Stanley stirring against him. His own eyes shot open and he pulled his head back in surprise, carefully watching his brother's face. Stanley's eyes were still closed, his face pinched and drawn, but there was life in it now, undeniable awareness, and consciousness. A short weary breath escaped Stanley before he began to speak in earnest, his voice slightly slurred and drowsy.

"Y-you better not say anything bad 'bout yourself, 'cause I… I-I've always been so jealous of ya. You're not a failure Ford; you're a-amazing! You're… you're so creative, 'nd smart, 'nd talented, 'nd brave, 'nd unlike me, you've always made your dreams into a reality." Stanley coughed weakly, but continued on, his croaking voice growing steadily stronger. "It's-That's why I… it's why I gave up on my dream of sailin' around the world. Once I lost you, I knew that there was no way I could ever pull it off on my own. I'm just… I'm not like you. If there's a failure in this family, it's me, not you. N-not you. I…. I wish… I-I'd give anything to be more like you."

Stanford smiled before replying, warmth flooding his heart and making his eyes a little wetter at the corners. Under normal circumstances, neither of them would have gone within a hundred yards of admittances as openly tender as these, but this string of ordeals had worn them both down the point that they were too tired to really give a damn about pride. Besides, it wasn't like anyone else was here to see it. "I wish I could be more like you."

Stanley's lids fluttered for a moment or two before he slowly opened his glazed-over eyes. He blinked tiredly, trying to focus in on Stanford, and then shot him back a bleak and slightly more sardonic smile. "Liar."

The older twin snickered. "I suppose as someone who makes his living from conning people, you would be able to spot one better than anyone. So look me in the eye Stanley, and tell me: Am I lying?"

Stanley peered at his brother closer, his watery brown eyes studying Stanford's intently. "No," he finally breathed out.

The chains binding Stanley disappeared into wisps of smoke, and he fell limply forward. Stanford lunged, catching him solidly in his arms. He noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that his twin's spectral shadow had faded back to a natural shade as his foot met it on the ground. It seemed to look and behave normally now, following Stanley's movements perfectly as Stanford readjusted his grip on him.

"Whoa. Careful there."

"Mmmm," Stanley grunted vaguely, leaning his full weight on Stanford. His eyes had fluttered closed again, and it seemed to take most of his strength just to keep himself from collapsing right then and there. Stanford carefully eased them both into a sitting position, leaning his side on the metal curve of the portal. He pulled Stanley against his chest, doing his best to support his brother's weakened body. It was a little unnerving that Stanley didn't budge an inch in his arms, that there were no snarky comments or grumbled protests, and Stanford's brow furrowed in concern. Had he already passed out again from fatigue? He gently shook Stanley's shoulder, but froze when he heard a pained hiss as he was jostled. One of his twin's hands flew protectively over his chest, clutching at the torn fabric. His body hunched in on itself, to obscure whatever the injury was from Stanford's view.

"Stanley?" he asked, a bit alarmed at his brother's abrupt action. "What's wrong?" Stanford's eyes darted downward in an attempt to examine where his hand was tightly clenched in a vice-like grip. "Is it your chest? Let me see, Stan."

Stanley didn't answer, and curled up tighter, closing himself off before Stanford's eyes. No, he wouldn't let Stanley do that to himself again.

"Stanley." Stanford spoke his name with a quiet insistence and tenderness, and much to his relief it was enough to get Stanley to raise his head back up. His watery brown eyes gazed back at Stanford in pain.

"Don't do this to yourself. You don't have to be alone anymore." Stanford gave him a small smile. "It's okay now," he assured softly. "Let me see it."

Stanley hesitated for another moment, then uncurled his fist from where it was clamped tightly over his heart. His hand slowly moved away so Stanford could get a better view of the wound. Gingerly, Stanford parted the torn fabric around his chest. The Y-shaped gash that had bled the glowing orange substance had entirely healed over. Well, not entirely, there was now a ragged white scar that marred his brother's skin. The older twin peered closer over the brim of glasses, carefully examining the newly healed injury. His fingers delicately parted the fabric further to gain a better view of it, and his eyes widened with astonishment. It appeared as though the scar itself had something holding it together… stitches. A rather literal representation within the mindscape of his brother's soul becoming whole once again.

"It's no wonder you're a bit sore," he murmured in amazement. "Your soul was torn apart and then stitched together again.

Stanley let out a hoarse laugh, and winced slightly from it."Guess now I know… what those taxidermy attractions in the Shack… felt like."

Stanford could only give a half-hearted chuckle in response to his brother's joke. His eyes still lingered upon the jagged scar on his twin's chest. A testament to the pain he had endured and survived. After a moment, Stanford moved his hand slightly, pressing it gently over the scar. He felt the steadily thumping heartbeat underneath, the slight rise and fall of his brother's chest. It wasn't exactly clear to him why he was doing this, though he supposed it might have been for comfort's sake; to assure himself that his brother was here and alive. That after forty long years of constant miscommunication, separation, and bitter resentment, they were still them, still brothers. They were at peace.

Stanley didn't pull away from him this time, but raised his own calloused hand and settled it on top of his twin's. He sighed, as though reassured of something, and relaxed his head against Stanford's shoulder. They both stayed like that for a long time, listening to the dull roaring of the sea on every side, taking relief in the cool breeze nipping at their cheeks and hands, enjoying the feeling of complete peace in the mindscape around them. But eventually, one of them did break the silence.

"Ford…." Stanford had to struggle slightly to hear what his twin was softly murmuring into his chest. "I don't exactly remember what's happened all that well. I'm not sure how we got into the mindscape, or anythin' else before now really. Could ya… maybe fill me in a little?"

"It… it might be better if we leave that for later," he suggested uncomfortably. "When we're both not so… worse for wear."

He felt Stanley's shoulders give a little twitch as the man snickered. "Yeah, ya do look like shit, and I don't imagine I look much better either, but I feel like this is…." his gruff voice lowered to a more somber note, "kinda important. Something isn't sittin' right with me."

Stanford gazed back out at the ocean wearily, watching the choppy waves shimmer for a beat or two before answering. "I suppose we're not really in a particular rush anymore, and it's been awhile since we've gotten to enjoy Glass Shard Beach together." He sighed, relenting. "Alright. Well, to make a long story short, I pursued you into the nightmare realm, found a doorway into the mindscape but lost you while we were traveling into it, found you again only to discover that your soul had been fractured into numerous parts, got into a bit of an argument with one of those parts-"

"An argument?" Stanley interrupted.

Stanford smiled a bit painfully. "That…may be a bit of an understatement. Um, anyways we eventually resolved our differences, I… appologized to you after realizing how badly I had unintentionally hurt you in the past, and, well, here we are now. "

As Stanford finished his summation his twin finally lifted his head up to look back at him. Stanley was unusually quiet, his gaze introspective as he tried to take his brother's words in. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. "No, there's…. more to it than that, isn't there," he insisted, blinking drowsily, his words slightly slurred by exhaustion. "Ya did apologize to me. I don't remember what ya said 'xactly, but I remember how it… it made me feel. Like putting a hand under cool water after it's been burned…" His gaze softened, as though he were recalling something. Then he abruptly went rigid.

"But… ya sh-shouldn't have." Stanley looked slightly more alarmed now, his face a mask of misery as he stared up at his brother."Ya shouldn't have apologized! I-I'm the one who's been trying to earn your forgiveness, a-and I-I can't help but feel like I've just screwed it up somehow. Everything's still fuzzy, but I know that I hurt you because I can… I c-can still feel your throat under my…" The blood seemed to drain out of Stanley's face. He began to breathe hard, and Stanford felt his heartbeat accelerate under where his hand rested. "What did I do? W-what did I just do!?" Stanley sat straight up, a wild look in his eyes, then winced harshly in pain. Stanford grabbed his arms, attempting to placate him before he hurt himself further.

"Stanley, calm down! It's okay now!"

"I was supposed to protect you! I-I was hurtin' you a-and… oh god. What… what happened? After you… apologized… I c-couldn't… I-I hurt ya, I hurt ya so badly… I had to protect ya and m-make sure I…."

"Shh, It's over now, Stanley it's over!" Stanford had to raise his voice to be heard above Stanley's increasing hysterics. "In the mindscape, this kind of damage is hardly permanent."

Attempting to mirror his own actions earlier while his brother had still been still been comatose, Stanford pulled down his sweatshirt collar to reveal his healed and unmarred throat. "See, I'm perfectly fine. Of course, I wouldn't have been if you had actually managed to kill me, but-" He quickly cut himself off upon seeing his twin's horrified expression and changed tactics, covering up his slip with an easy grin and nonchalant tone. "Uh, well, it doesn't matter! I've managed to save us both now, haven't I?"

His heart sank when Stanley didn't return his smile, face still forlorn and eyes far away.

"Stanley…." Stanford wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his voice lowering to what he hoped was a soothing tone. "We're both okay now. I'm okay…"

Though Stanley still didn't look entirely convinced, Stanford felt a lot of the tension leave his shoulders, and he didn't seem to be panicking anymore. It was a start at least.

"Maybe… maybe it's a good thing you're here now," Stanley muttered under his breath, his gaze falling away to waters below in a way that made him look slightly out of it. "I can finally tell ya what I-what I've been meaning to say to ya for a while, but never did cause…" He grimaced wryly. "Insert dumb excuse here. It's just… I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

A small reluctant smile began to tug at the corners of Stanford's mouth. He tried brushed off his twin's apology. "Stanley, you don't have to-"

"Let me finish!" Stanley sharply interrupted. There was a certain measure of desperation lighting his eyes like a fever. "Takin' out Bill for ya, I know how much of a thorn he's been in your side, so I thought that by gettin' rid of him I could finally make things up to ya. But somehow I-I screwed up and hurt you again. I don't remember exactly what I said or did to ya, but I got this feelin' that it was horrible. And even before all of this I did some pretty screwed up things that I never formally apologized for, so let me at least say this!

Stanford wasn't sure how to respond to that. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his head away dismissively. "It's okay, Stanley… honestly…some of the things you said…. I deserved it."

The dull pressure around his arm increased as Stanley squeezed him stubbornly, insistently trying to draw his gaze back. "Don't say that," his twin retorted fiercely. "Ya didn't deserve that from any part of me."

"Stanley, I know you mean well," Stanford started, a heavy sigh escaping him, "but I'm just too… worn down emotionally to deal with this right now."

"That's exactly why I wanna do it right now." His brother retorted with a surprising amount of energy. "Cause if I wait till later when you've gone and collected yourself again, you're just going to clam up and put all those walls around yourself like usual. I don't wanna apologize to Poindexter's head," Stanley poked a finger at Stanford's forehead. "…I wanna apologize to his heart." He lowered his hand and pressed it on his twin's chest, mirroring Stanford's own earlier motion.

Stanford finally turned back to look at his brother. "Stanley-"

"Please. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I don't expect ya to. Just… hear me out."

"…Alright."

Stanley's stubborn mask melted into something like relief at his brother's consent, though there was a hint of fear and anxiousness swimming in his eyes as well. He settled back down next to Stanford, leaning slightly on him, his usual gruff tone reserved. "Well uh, first off about your science fair project, I didn't mean to wreck it, h-honestly I didn't." He scratched the back of his neck, nervously looking away. "It's been so long now, I can barely remember what happened anymore, but I know I… I guess it doesn't matter whether or not it was an accident, does it. 'Cause I still really messed things up for ya. Stanford, I… I'm so sorry about that." Stanley forced his eyes back up to meet Stanford's, his expression a mixture of shame and misery. "A-and when you didn't make it into West Coast Tech, I won't lie, I was genuinely happy that you didn't, and I shouldn't've been. I was being selfish and stupid, because that was your dream school, and it was what you wanted to do. B-but I… I was so afraid of losing you. I felt so worthless on my own, like I would never amount to anything good. I didn't want to think I was stifling or suffocating you, but maybe I was. M-maybe I was clinging-just clinging to you so tightly that I was trying to drag you down with me. I… I'm sorry Ford, I'm s-so sorry."

The corners of his brother's eyes were starting to water, but Stanford couldn't bring himself to offer him any relief. Something was coiling tightly in his own chest, squeezing his heart. He looked away, suddenly feeling very hot and uncomfortable.

"When I heard that you'd ended up going to Backupsmore," Stanley continued, sniffing slightly. "t-that…that was the first time it really hit me what I'd done to ya. You could have had the best equipment, and the best teachers, and a big old library, and all that other nerd junk you like…" His voice cracked. Tears started to trail down Stanley's flushed cheeks, and they shined brightly in the sunlight. "and I screwed that up for ya. I, gah, I couldn't even make back the money I lost ya, even given ten years to do it. Y-you probably could have had such an amazing future if I hadn't ruined your life like that."

"Stanley, it's alright," Stanford countered, the tightness of his chest finally relenting somewhat. "Not getting into West Coast Tech was a setback, but it wasn't career ending. It took a little longer and I ended up having to pull off a few more all-nighters, but it wasn't too long before I got my degree and moved on to my dream job." Stanford sighed, suddenly feeling the years weigh upon his shoulders. He gazed out onto the peaceful ocean, and in an almost unconscious manner rubbed small soothing circles into Stanley's back. "It was a lifetime ago…it honestly doesn't seem that important now. You… you spent ten years trying to make up for a stupid mistake, and blamed yourself for so long. Please don't burden yourself with that anymore." Stanley lapsed into shocked silence at his brother's forgiving words, at a loss for how to respond.

"Besides," Stanford attempted to offer a playful tease, though he didn't pull it off well, "even though I didn't get into my dream school, I was able to put my life back together a lot better than you were."

"Yeah, until I reentered your life and ruined it all for ya again," his brother murmured ruefully, only further discouraged. "When you came to me askin' for help with the portal, I-I was bein' so stupid and easily offended. I-I let my anger get the best of me… instead of just tryin' to understand what was goin' on with ya and talk. It shouldn't have mattered if you didn't want to patch things up right away. It was obvious somethin' terrible had happened to you."

Stanford was silent for a moment, his hand continuing the small soothing motions. "Anger getting the best of us seems to be a running theme," he quietly observed.

Stanley shuddered lightly. "And it was because of…. my own anger that I shoved you into the portal. I-I didn't realize th- but… I guess it d-doesn't really matter, huh? The damage was done. When ya called me at the moment you needed me most… I-I betrayed your trust again…"

Stanford swallowed, deciding to speak truthfully. "I… I'm still a little angry at you for that, even knowing it was an accident. A part of me… hated you for pushing me in for a long time. First Bill betrayed me. Then Fiddleford abandoned me. And then you… you were the person I trusted the most, and you failed me when I really needed your help. It took me a while for me to place my faith in anyone again after that."

Something in his brother's face broke. "I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes shining with a deep sincerity. Then he sighed heavily, and his jaw set itself in an oddly stubborn fashion. "Stanford, there's something else here that I know ya probably want me to apologize for, but I'm gonna go ahead and tell ya up front that I won't. Ever. Because that would mean I regret my actions, and I don't." He shot Stanford a steely glare before continuing, as though daring him to argue. "Even if I'd fully known 'bout all that dangerous, sci fi mumbo jumbo involved in openin' the portal, that _still_ wouldn't have stopped me from trying to bring ya back home. It's alright if you're angry at me for that, and I don't blame you for punching me in the face when ya first got back either."

Stanley's stern expression softened somewhat, and a small, sad smile began working it's way onto his face as he looked down at the space between them."I know that riskin' the whole universe for the life of one person must seem really selfish to ya, 'nd probably makes me some kinda special brand of idiot, but I…" His voice was thick with emotion. "I couldn't've done anything else. Maybe you just don't think your life has that much value that the universe should be risked for it, but it… it does to me. I've ended up pulling off a lot of 'morally ambiguous' things over the course of my life, and I've regretted a lot of them for the situations I've ended up gettin' myself or the people around me into, but even if ya never forgive me for bringing ya back…" He looked back up at his brother, coppery eyes unflinchingly resolute. "That's somethin' I can't regret."

Stanford smiled wryly, flashing back to his own decision to crack open the doorway to the mindscape, his desperate beating upon the sheer surface of the obsidian black mirror in the nightmare realm. "I'll… try not to hold it against you."

Stanley returned the grin before his face hardened to something more uncharacteristically grave and somber. "But…. there's something else 'bout that situation that I'm more than willing to apologize for, and that's… thir-thir-" His brows pinched as he stumbled on the word. "Thirty years, Stanford. S-Stanford…. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for takin' thirty years to bring ya back . I… I'm such a terrible brother. Even while tryin' my hardest, it _still_ took me half our lifetimes just to undo that dumb mistake!" Stanley abruptly squeezed his eyes closed, tears falling onto the grimy rubble below and darkening it in small splotches.

His own eyes were starting to sting slightly, but Stanford did his best to blink back the excess water. "I… I gave up hoping that you'd come for me after the third month," he admitted quietly. "Not that I really wanted you to help me because I knew what that would mean for the universe, but I…I did kind of hope. Sometimes being on the other side of the portal was a paradise, sometimes it was hell, and I have the scars to prove it." Stanford's breath hitched, and his eyes started stinging even harder. "During some of the especially harrowing adventures I'd… I'd dream that you were just about to get me back. That you were finding a way to do it without creating a rift, and that's why you were taking so long. Sometimes just to keep myself going, I-I tried to trick myself into thinking that I would be back home before the end of the solar cycle. But by the time you finally managed to activate the machine, I honestly wasn't expecting it at all. I'd… almost forgotten."

Stanley was silent for a moment. His eyes gazed over the glistening sea, but they were so far away. "I used to get these… dreams. These terrible, really vivid dreams. Sometimes you'd be dead, frozen, and floating' out in space. Other times you'd seem happy and settled, 'nd I was afraid if- _when_ I finally activated the portal, that you wouldn't have wanted to come back, 'nd that I woulda… heh woulda just ended up ruining your life for a third time. And then other times… o-other times somethin' awful would be happenin' to ya. Y-you'd be crying out for me, be angry at me for not coming to get you already, b-beggin' me to come and help you." Tears began to fall from Stanley's eyes in earnest now, his face twisted in despair as he settled his forehead into the crook of his brother's neck. His grip around Stanford tightened almost desperately as his whole body trembled severely, and between this and the fact that he was muttering all of this into Stanford's shoulder, it was very difficult to make out what he was saying. "Ford, Stanford, I… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I put ya in that situation. I-I wish so badly that I could have gotten you out sooner. I would've, gah, w-would've given a-anything to have g-gotten you out sooner. I wanted ya back home. I wanted ya safe. You never shoulda had to go through that, but you did! Ya did 'nd it's my fault! It's all my fault. Stanford, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Stanley…" Stanford soothed, smiling sadly down at his twin's grey mess of hair and squeezing tightly back. "You spent your life working on a way to bring me home. So please don't blame yourself for not bringing me back sooner than later. I'm here now, that's what matters. You saved me, Stan. Thank you."

Stanley reluctantly brought his head back up stared at his brother, eyes huge and watering. The tense line of his posture eased, and he slumped back, cheek pressed against Stanford's shoulder as though a tremendous weight had been taken off of him. Stanford curled his arm around his brother's back, deciding not to comment on his soft hitching breaths, and gazed out to the sea. An ocean breeze flowed through like an exhaled breath, carrying water droplets that accumulated on Stanford's glasses. After another minute, Stanford continued to speak.

"I can't fully condone your actions, because my life certainly isn't worth more than the entire universe. But… it would be too hypocritical of me to hold a grudge against you for not respecting my wishes to keep the universe safe at the cost of my life, when I didn't respect your sacrifice in the reverse situation. That, and I guess if what Dipper told me about you not discovering my warning in invisible ink is true, you wouldn't have really known what my desire for the portal was. We didn't have much of a chance to discuss things before everything went so… horribly wrong."

"Ha," Stanley barked out a weak laugh. "That stupid invisible ink! I can't believe it took me _thirty years_ to figure that one out. We always used to use that to pass notes to each other when we were kids, and I didn't even think to check the journal for that. Honestly, it should've been one of the first things I tried!" Stanford found himself grinning a bit ruefully at that.

"Well, hindsight being twenty-twenty, I'll admit that I probably wasn't at my most rational when I decided to write the warnings about the device in invisible ink. Three days without sleep and several gallons of coffee can do odd things to you."

"Mmm," Stanley grunted in affirmation. They fell into silence again, Stanley lost in his own reverie.

"And your… your reputation too." He started again slowly after a beat, exhaustion creeping into his tone. "I didn't mean to wreck that, or to change your house up so much. It's just, over time things… happened. Things changed. Just like everythin' I touch, it all kinda went to shit. If… if I'd jus' managed to… managed to rescue ya sooner, or if I never woulda knocked ya back into t-the… then it never would have…" Stanley shrugged weakly. "Heh, I guess I really messed that up too."

"Oh, Stan…" Stanford offered his brother a couple of appreciative pats, expression easy and almost amused. "You did what you had to do, and I of all people should have realized that. I was angry, yes, but stepping back and seeing what you've done… it's truly remarkable. Starting up a business like that from nothing… while also maintaining such a monumental secret _and_ working every night to re-create an interdimensional portal? All to bring me home. I… I honestly don't have the words for it. I didn't stop and think about all of this until _after_ I said I wanted you out of my house…"

Stanley appeared flustered and squirmed somewhat uncomfortably. It was hard to tell with him facing away, but Stanford thought he could almost see a hint of blush coloring his twin's cheeks, which made his own face light up as any sibling's would upon embarrassing the other.

"I… I don't blame ya for that after I screwed things up so royally for ya," Stanley tried to dismiss the compliments. "If I were you, I wouldn't wanna deal with me either."

"I regret those words," Stanford confessed. "I… I'll always regret them. And quite honestly Stanley… I don't blame you either for telling me to stay away from the kids."

"I still shouldn't have said that… it was partly because I thought ya might endanger them, which is pretty silly of me considering all the things I've done with 'em, and part of it was because-" Stanford felt his brother tense slightly. "b-because I was jealous. Everyone always prefers you. Even the kids do. But tha-that's no reason for me to say nasty things about ya and call ya dangerous. I shouldn't have done that."

Stanford was silent for a moment, thinking back over his brother, Fiddleford, a handful of other beings he'd parted ways with on the other side of the portal, the trail of ruined lives left in his wake. His shoulder's slumped, and his voice was rough and quiet. "Stanley I… I am dangerous. Your second fragment pegged me right when he called me a monster."

"My second what?" Stanley questioned, brow raised as he lifted himself to stare back at Stanford. "No, look I'm not done yet! I still haven't gotten to apologize for whatever went on here." He scratched his chin, eyes darting to the right in thought. "I remember…vaguely maybe sayin' somethin' along those lines? But even if I can't remember exactly what I was sayin' at the time, I remember what I felt like when I was sayin' it, and I was feeling some… some pretty dark and scary things. At first it was mostly aimed at myself, but then somehow….s-somehow you became the target for it." He shook his head dismissively, fixing his brother with a firm stare. "Look though, y-you're not… a monster. I was tryin' to hurt you… say somethin' that I knew would cause pain, even if it wasn't true. You're not like Bill. We're not monsters, Ford. Both of us jus'…" A world-weary, frustrated sigh escaped him, and he rested his forehead back on his twin's shoulder in apparent exhaustion and defeat. "..lost our way."

"There was truth to your words," Stanford asserted darkly. His eyes were hot and stinging as tears began to form behind them, no matter how he tried to fight them off. "This whole Weirdmaggedon business was brought upon us because I trusted Bill to build the portal. I ruined Fiddleford's life."

"Ford…"

"It's all my fault…" He continued as though his brother hadn't spoken, lost in himself for a moment. His shadow felt heavy. "I was such a fool. I fell for Bill's flattery and games, hook, line, and sinker. Everything that happened because of him… it's my fault. If I had just-"

"Hey, hey. Ford," Stanley interjected in a firm but gentle voice. "Listen to me, okay? It's not your fault. That triangular bastard was manipulatin' you."

Stanford didn't know how to take Stanley's words. On some level, he knew it wasn't his fault… h-he knew it but… but why did his heart now have the old feeling of being made of lead, dragging itself down under the universe's weight? Stanford had never spoken these sentiments to anymore before, he hardly admitted them to himself. Yet whether it was because of his own emotional exhaustion, or the bond of reciprocal trust he now felt with Stanley, he found he couldn't stop speaking the dark thoughts buried within himself for so long.

"It's because of me Bill was unleashed into our dimension in the first place. I caused all this pain and suffering. I-In some respects, I _am_ just as bad as he is. I-If I was… If I hadn't been so blind, so full of ambition…" Stanford shuddered, and stretched his hand out before him, flexing it. He recalled that feeling of loss of control, of realizing… _his_ body was no longer just his, and that he had been tricked by an entity who could do what it pleased with it. Horror and shame had flooded him when he realized what a mistake he had made, that he had never even questioned Bill's partnership, or his ability to possess Stanford. "I-I let him control my body, Stanley," Stanford choked out. "I let him into my _mind_. I was his obedient little puppet, doing everything he asked of me. I should have _realized_ …"

"You can't blame yourself for this." Stanley had sat up straighter, trying to look him in the eye. Stanford still had his head turned away, unable to bring himself to return his brother's gaze. Stanford silently blinked back tears, staring out into the deep blue, shimmering swell of the ocean and cloudless sky beyond.

"When I first discovered I had been betrayed by him… I-I nearly lost my mind," he choked out, voice little more than a horse whisper. "W-When I contacted you Stanley, I was in the depths of despair… I-I didn't know who else in the world to trust… except you. I w-would look in the mirror… and wonder who I really was. I was just like him… he… he said that to me. Taunted me. Because sometimes I would see his eyes instead of my own…golden..wrong. At times, I wondered if… he was right." Stanford ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breath hitching slightly. Stanley remained silent and still, it was almost as though he were afraid to breathe or Stanford would close himself off again.

"He… he would play these games. See how long I could stay awake, and I soon as I closed my eyes….. he would take control of me again. T-Throw me down the stairs… stab my hand… t-terrible things… " Stanford could only suppress a shudder at the memories that he had been so keen on repressing. Stanley tightened his grip around him. "I lived in fear of him. But over the last thirty years, I realized that I had to fight back. I've spent… nearly every waking moment trying to fix my mistake of trusting a demon… letting him into my skin. To protect the universe from undo the harm I've caused…"

"That's why you were so angry…." Stanley murmured, almost to himself. "Ya felt like I had just undone everythin' you've been tryin' hard to prevent for so long… I…I didn't realize Ford…."

Stanford gave a rueful chuckle, followed by a small, tired smile. "There's a lot of things both of us never realized."

Stan growled darkly. "I almost wish that one-eyed demon dorito were here so I could throw him into a trash compactor. I'll make sure he dies nice and slow for what he did to you," Stanford had hardly heard his brothers words, otherwise he would have appreciated the sentiment more. His mind was on dark nights, the clawing exhaustion, opening his eyes to find cuts on his arms, bruises on his body…

"A p-part of me has always wondered if the pain he inflicted on me… the….the nightmares I have from my own foolish mistakes…. th-that perhaps I deserve it. I have tried to make penance… in more ways than one."

Stanford sat up, his heart pounding a little harder than he would have liked. There was a moment of hesitation, as he weighed what he was about to do. He felt the curious gaze of his brother upon him, but Stanley waited, patiently and silently. His brother had put himself on the line for Stanford, again and again. Stanford had once trusted him enough to call upon him when he was in very depths of his own personal hell. And now he could trust him with this part of himself again. The darkened part that he had buried under intellectual thoughts, and hidden so carefully under clothing. The part that Stanley's shadow had called him out on. Stanford wondered what that dark silhouette had seen when it looked into his own shadow.

Steeling himself, Stanford drew in a breath. Then he slowly tugged up the sleeve of his coat and sweater, enough to expose his forearm. Etched into his bare skin, milky white aged scars crisscrossed over his wrist and arm. Stanford swallowed, waiting for a reaction, feeling more vulnerable than he had when he apologized to Stanley's second fragment.

Stanley lightly took Stanford's arm, and examined the scars for a few silent seconds, his dark eyes unreadable. Stanford found himself averting his own gaze again, eyes lowered in shame. Finally, after what was to Stanford an agonizing few moments, Stanley let out a heavy breath.

"Those… " he began, a quiet knowing in his voice. "They weren't all caused by Bill… were they."

Stanford nodded, still unable to look back up at him. "In my darker moments… gripped with insanity and paranoia… I thought perhaps this was a way I could be absolved for all I had done. I-I tried so hard to stop him, to atone for my transgressions against the universe. But… it never seems like enough, Stanley. Despite my efforts, the universe punishes me, and I deserve it. I deserve this pain."

He pulled the sleeve back down, once again hiding the scars from the cool ocean air. One of his hands rubbed over his arm self-consciously, nervously. Stanley gently placed a hand on his forearm, and Stanford stopped his motions, mostly out of surprise.

"I don't know if the universe is punishing you or not… knowin' our luck, it probably is… but…" Stanford kept his eyes fixed on the ocean waves below them. "What I _do_ know is that you're punishing yourself."

The words left Stanford breathless, and his chest constricted with long-buried emotion. Hearing the shadow speak those words was one matter, but to hear the truth come from his twin was something else entirely. Stanley spoke what Stanford could never fully admit to himself, that he desperately tried to bury under layers of rationalization. He tried to form some kind of response, whether denial or agreement he wasn't even sure, but tongue rested heavily on the bottom of his mouth and he found that he couldn't speak.

"Trying to right the wrongs you did is fine… heck, I spent forty years doin' just that. I know what that's like, wanting so badly to make things _right_ again, to fix your mistakes. But… Ford… it also sounds to me what you're doing to yourself is like… self-flagellation. You're hurting yourself. And maybe I'm not the one to talk, because lord knows I've had my fair share of self-hate. It's just… fixin' mistakes and punishin' yourself can sometimes… overlap." Stanley sighed, the weight of his years evident in his voice. "Poindexter, ya don't… don't have to hurt yourself like this." His hand stroked over Stanford's arm, over where his hidden scars were. "…Or with those thoughts. You don't have t'blame yourself…."

Unexpected tears picked into Stanford's eyes, hot and unyielding. The dual shades of blue from the ocean and sky around them began to swim and blur together through his saline soaked vision. He fiercely squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head.

"I get it," Stanley continued, his voice quivering slightly. "I get never wanting to forgive yourself… you jus' want to punish yourself for everything you've ever done wrong."

The tears that Stanford had been fighting to hold back for so, so long, decades, finally spilled down his cheeks. His shoulders trembled with barely restrained emotion, and he slipped a hand under his glasses and over his eyes as a soft sob escaped him. He didn't have the energy or presence of mind to feel embarrassed about his loss of control. His heart ached, heavy and weighted in his chest, a kaleidoscope of different color emotions seeping out from between the fractured pieces.

Through his tears, he saw droplets of rain begin to fall from the cloudless sky. They hit the silver metallic surface of the portal with dull plunks, glinting in the golden light of the sun. Stanford's body shook and he was no longer able to hold back his sobs, and the more the emotions welled up and escaped him, the harder the rain fell, now catching on the edges of the circular part of the portal and falling on either side like a watery curtain. Even the immense expanse of the velvety blue ocean beyond was being pelted mercilessly. There still wasn't a single cloud in the sky, but the rainstorm glinted and showered steadily across the mindscape all the same. Stanford turned his face into Stanley's shoulder, and wept softly against his brother.

"Oh, Poindexter," his twin whispered sadly, his eyes bright and wet. "You don't deserve what he did to you. You don't deserve what I said either. You're not a monster…"

Stanley wrapped his arms around him, as though hoping to shelter him from the pain he harbored in his heart. They stayed like that for a long while, rain falling into the sea, and gently showering on the portal; splattering onto their backs and soaking their clothes with a coolness that wasn't quite chilling. And for the first time that Stanford could remember in a long time, he felt truly…safe. Protected. He no longer cared about hiding his tears, he just let them ebb away, let himself cry until his whole face was red and running with various fluids. He was completely spent.

As his tears finally slowed, the rainstorm gradually tapered off and became a soft drizzle. When Stanford was able to speak again, his voice was so small, he could barely recognize himself. "I… w-want to believe you, Stanley. I really do. But…"

"… it's hard to accept." Stanley finished for him. Stanford nodded, his head still rested on Stanley's shoulder.

Stanford took a few deep shuddering breaths, and the last of the rainfall sprinkled into a light mist before fading away, once again leaving a clear ocean, expansive and endless before them. They sat and listened to the gentle roar of waves against their childhood shoreline for a few minutes. Stanley spoke quietly. "Forgivin' yourself… can be the hardest part sometimes."

"…I suppose so." Stanford agreed after a few more moments of contemplation. "Maybe…maybe that could be something we can work on together. When we go back home."

His brother froze almost imperceptibly against him, but Stanford felt it. He finally sat up so he could examine him. Stanley's face was drawn, mouth pressed into a thin line. Stanford wrapped an arm over his shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. "Stanley… are you ready to go home?" he gently asked.

Stanley was silent for a long while before finally answering. He shrugged and looked down avoidantly. "I don't know. The Shack's been burned to the ground, and even if it wasn't… I'm not sure that I have a home to return to."

"Heh," Stanford snickered and offered a teasing smile. "You really think that I'm going to try and get rid of you after all of this?"

Stanley glanced over at him, and punched him playfully. "Nah… after goin' through the proverbial Nine Levels of Hell for me, I guess I can cut you some slack."

"Gee, thank you Stan. As long as I get to hear your annoying voice when we get back, it'll all have been worth it."

"I _am_ pretty great."

Stanford paused, frowning in confusion. "Then… why do you think you wouldn't have a home?"

Stanley faltered, then gave an uncertain shrug. "It… doesn't make much sense, but… there's gonna be that…. that part of me. That'll tell me that no one wants me around. I know… it ain't rational. But it's always there."

"Mm." Stanford held his brother a little tighter to himself. "I guess that's something we'll also have to work on."

"Yeah," Stanley agreed pointedly, "along with the issues you carried back with ya from the other side of the portal, and from Bill, the bastard cornchip. I know ya still got 'em, don't try and deny it," he added quickly when he saw Stanford open his mouth. "Just know I wanna do everything I can to help ya with them. Just… let me in, alright. If I have to let you in, then it should go both ways." Stanley sighed dramatically, doing a rather poor job of pretending to be annoyed by this prospect. Stanford couldn't help but smile, his heart feeling lighter.

"Thank you, Stanley. We'll get through this together. It shouldn't be too difficult finding a temporary living situation… and I'm sure Soos will be more than happy to help us out. He reminds me a bit of an eager puppy… perhaps a golden retriever," Stanford mused. He hadn't had much time to talk to the young man, but from what he observed he was an extremely loyal employee and friend to his brother.

"Yeah, that guy will always step up to the occasion, let me tell ya. He was almost as devastated as I was when the Shack was destroyed." Stanley smirked fondly before expression became forlorn again. "I…I still can't really believe that happened. My house burned down… jus' like that. Thirty years of livin' in that place, gone."

"I know, Stanley. But take it from someone who has wandered the multiverse for thirty years, home is a lot more about who you're with than where you are."

Stanley hesitated, slightly unsure, before answering. "Yeah."

Stanford held his brother out at arm's length, so they could look directly at each other. Stanley reluctantly met his steely gaze. "Stanley, I'll be there with you when you wake up, and no matter what happens, I won't ever abandon you again. Thirty years ago, you promised that you would save me from the other side of the portal. I'm making a similar promise now. Believe me when I say that I'm just as determined to keep mine now, as you were to keep yours back then."

Stanley's tired eyes searched his twin's face, and after a few seconds, he nodded in acceptance. A soft contented sigh escaped him as he nestled back onto Stanford's shoulder. "So…. how're we gettin' outta of here," he murmured tiredly, his words beginning to slur again. Stanford thought for a moment.

"Well. One way is to imagine a doorway out of the realm itself, which is a subconscious representation of our own awakening state and the end of the REM phase, as well as electrical activity in the thalamus area of the brain…"

"English, Poindexter," Stanley chuckled softly. " _My_ brain is too fried to understand textbook speak right now…"

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Stanley, it's just very fascinating to consider." He tapped his chin deliberately, gears still turning in his head." But aside from imagining some sort of physical exit out… we can simply skip that step and…. fall asleep."

"Aren't we already asleep?"

"Well, yes." Stanford agreed slowly, struggling a little to keep things simple and not go into professor mode. "Falling asleep is simply the opposite of waking up. So if we were to _purposely_ fall asleep here, it would lead our physical bodies to wake up wherever they are in the real world. I guess you can say we will be… falling awake."

Stanley didn't seem to appreciate this explanation any better. "Ughh, my head," he groused dryly. "Okay. Well if all we gotta do is fall asleep, that's my kind of escape plan. Mostly cuz I'm too tired to do anythin' right now."

"In all honesty, so am I."

Stanley's body relaxed against his brother and snuggled a bit closer. "Then…I'll see ya on the other side?" he asked, with a yawn.

"I'll be there when you wake up. I promise."

Stanley closed his eyes, the sunlight reflecting on his weathered face. After a few moments, he drifted off, and his worn expression smoothed over into a peaceful sleep. Ford smiled fondly down at him, affection welling in his chest. He decided it would be best to follow suit. It was time to leave the mindscape.

The utter exhaustion that he had been battling, now slipped over him, pulling his eyelids closed. He listened to the steadily crashing waves below them, the ocean breathing as though it were a living being, and his brother breathing in time with it, soft and steady. And slowly, the noises and senses of the mindscape faded, pulling away from Stanford as though only a distant dream.

There was a strange feeling of being tugged upwards, as though someone had attached a string to the back of his coat and was reeling him in. Then a dim sensation of floating, his entire body felt as light as a soap bubble, and he drifted delicately, suspended in a nothingness. Perhaps he should have felt worry, fear, but his head was too fuzzy to really be bothered, and it honestly wasn't entirely unpleasant. Almost tranquil in a way, a feeling of complete restfulness that Stanford hardly experienced on his normal nights of attempted sleep. Time maybe passed, or froze, he couldn't be sure how long he stayed in that latent state, mind curiously but pleasantly blank.

Then voices, he heard them as though he were immersed underwater. Slowly they gained clarity, volume, and he strained to hear them. Who was… what was going on? His body suddenly felt heavy, as though he had just stepped out of a long voyage in space, and gravity was pinning him back to the earth. He felt the hardness of dirt beneath his slack hands, a warm breeze on his cheek. Pain began to seep into his body, every muscle aching sluggishly. The voices were louder now, more frantic, and they caused his head to pound. Stanford's brow furrowed and he squeezed his eyes tightly closed in displeasure against it. Couldn't they just let him feel completely miserable in peace? But wait a moment… his rational thoughts began to creep back into consciousness. He recognized those voices. Familiar and concerned, they jolted his mind back to reality, back into Gravity Falls.

"Ah doods, what are we gonna do? We've tried everything and they still won't wake up!"

"Do you think any of the local hospitals might be open?" Dipper. That was Dipper's voice. His great-nephew, who he dearly cared for. "I… I don't know if we should wait longer for them to wake up or…." Right. He was waking up. And apparently so was the pain in his body. Maybe Dipper's suggestion about hospitals wasn't a terrible idea. The more the waking world dragged him toward consciousness, the more he felt the soreness of his body, his injuries lighting up, one by one. "I just wish they would open their eyes…. I don't know what to do." His young voice broke slightly in the end, and the concern and fear in it was palpable. Stanford had to wake up and tell him they were _okay_ now, everything would be okay. He tried to force his eyes open but his body was stubbornly uncooperative.

An anxious but practical female voice he identified as Wendy spoke up. "If a hospital's open, then it's probably filled to the brim already with everyone else who was affected by Weirdmageddon, which would be the entire town. We're going to have to take them somewhere further out. I mean, my Dad taught me and my bros first aid, but nothing to treat possible' triangle-demon-osis' or whatever."

"Hey Soos, do you know if your truck's in working condition?" Dipper again. Stanford attempted to get his limbs under control, trying to get his mouth aligned with his brain functioning to tell everyone to calm down, they were _fine_. Sort of.

"Uhhh. Well, the last place I saw it was-"

Mabel's shriek of excitement and relief interrupted Soos, and caused Stanford's head to give a particularly nasty throb. " _Guys look!_ Grunkle Ford's waking up!"

Stanford gritted his teeth and groaned, finally able to move his arm enough to rub his aching head. He felt as though he had just plummeted down a several story tall building, then hit the ground and bounced right back up to the top. There was a dull pounding behind his eyes, and his body protested angrily when he finally forced himself to sit up. He kept his eyes closed, and his breathing even, waiting for the spinning world to come to a stop.

"Ughh…. since when has waking up from the mindscape ever felt this _awful_?" He griped miserably, swaying unsteadily in place. Small hands grabbed his arm, and larger ones steadied him.

"Take it easy, Dr. Pines."

"Oh my gosh! Great Uncle Ford, are you alright?" Stanford opened his eyes and blinked sluggishly down at Dipper, who was surveying him as if he were about to spontaneously combust. Stanford felt his heart warm at the sight of the boy, and he smiled down at his nephew, placing a hand on his brown messy hair and giving it an affectionate pat.

"Yes. Fine, fine," he assured pleasantly. Stanford spared a moment to glance around drowsily before a realization abruptly struck him like a cold splash of water to the face. "W-Where's…. where's Stanley?" He questioned, eyes flickering wildly back and forth as his deep voice rose to a frantic pitch. "Where did he go?! I promised him I'd be there when he woke up… I promised him!"

"Woah, dude, it's okay… calm down. You'll pass out again." Soos placed firm hands on his shoulders to keep him still as he attempted to twist around in a hectic attempt to spot his brother.

"Yeah, Dr. Pines… he's right next to you." The red-headed teen screwed her face up in concern. "You must have hit your head pretty hard, huh?"

Stanford turned his head so sharply to the right that he nearly gave himself whiplash. His gaze fell to the man on the ground next to him. Stanley's face was slack and unconscious in a way that sent a sudden jolt through his twin's chest. It reminded him far too much of how he'd looked hanging in the portal. Mabel was perched next to Stanley, guarding him with a sort of intensity that reminded Stanford of some of the smaller and fiercer dragons he had come across. Now, she and Dipper watched him with concerned expressions, but he didn't really pay heed to their worry. Stumbling on the charred dirt, he scrambled over to his brother, hardly feeling the aches and pains in his body.

"Stanley?" He kneeled down, collapsed really, next to Stanley's shoulder and grabbed it. Some small part of his mind was surprised at how weak his own grip was, but the rest of him was far more focused on shaking his brother awake. "Stanley! Stanley, wake up!"

Thankfully, his brother didn't have much trouble rousing this time around. Stanley let out a long groan, his expression pinching a little before his eyes flickered open.

"Well, isn't that just my luck," he groused dryly, brow raised. "The first thing I get to see upon waking is your ugly mug."

Stanford couldn't help the grin that broke out onto his face. He laughed a little as he helped Stanley to sit up, shooting back his own remark. "I guess you would know, since you look at it in the mirror every morning."

Mabel 's face lit up, and she squealed in earsplitting delight as she threw herself at her grunkle. "Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan, you're ok!" She looked up at Stanley with wide, bright eyes. "We were so worried after what happened with Bill. And then Grunkle Ford disappeared too!"

"Seriously," Wendy chimed in from behind, "you guys nearly gave us a heart attack. We couldn't get Soos to stop crying till we found you."

"I can confirm that to be one hundred percent true." Soos admitted unashamedly.

Stanley chuckled a little at that, trying not to wince from the force of his niece's bone-crushing hug. "Yeah. It's good to see you kids safe too."

"I'm so glad you guys are alright." Dipper piped in as well. Then he surprised Stanford by drawing one of his small arms around his chest, and the other around Stanley's, adding to his sister's hug. His eyes widened even further as he felt something warm press in against his back, and before he knew it Soos and Wendy had followed suit. Stanford blushed in embarrassment as the pair of them were encased in a cozy little hug cocoon. And then he… smiled, something light, and… bubbly fluttering around somewhere between his gut and the bottom of his chest. He couldn't recall feeling this genuinely happy in almost a lifetime. It was an odd realization for him, though not unwelcome.

Stanford's grin faltered slightly as he spared another side glance over to his brother and noticed that Stanley didn't seem to be enjoying this as much as he was. His twin was smiling, but it was weak and seemed a little melancholy. Perhaps that was understandable considering how readily he'd almost given all of this up back in the mindscape…. Stanford's musings trailed off as he followed his twin's forlorn gaze, coming upon the charred, splintered, and blackened remains on the Shack sitting in a heap in front of them. His own heart dipped slightly at the sight.

Or, it could be because of that.

"You know children, and uh, man-child," he addressed the group thoughtfully as they started to break off from the hug. "When we start rebuilding the Mystery Shack we're going to someone to draw up blueprints for the new layout. Unfortunately, Stanley and I won't be able to pick up on that anytime soon because of all the sailing we're going to have to catch up on." Stanley shot his brother startled look at this, and Stanford offered him a coy grin in return. "So I was wondering, would any of you be willing to help us out with that?"

Mabel's eyes grew as big as saucers and Dipper covered his ears as she let out another high pitched squeal right next to him. "Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes! Oh my gosh, you came to the right person Grunkle Ford. I know exactly what we're going to do." Immediately she hopped up and started pacing back and forth, enthusiastically listing things off on her fingers. "Okay. First of all, we're going to make it so that the Shack's like five stories tall, and it will have have a _huuuuuge_ entryway, at least two multibears across, and that entryway is going to be framed by balloon animals, but we'll make them out of Styrofoam so they won't pop! And then, then, " She spun and framed the burnt remains of the Shack dramatically with her fingers. "We'll do neon colors for the outside to draw in customers, pastels for the inside to brighten the place up, and then sparkly red for the sign!"

"We can also set aside a place where we can keep real magical creatures and study them." Dipper added, joining his sister in surveying the area."Kind of like another lab, but on the first floor this time so we can get out quickly if something goes wrong."

"Oh doods," Soos chimed in, raising a hand up, "if we're doing the lab on the first floor then I call dibs for the employee break room on the second floor! Do you think we could put in a waterslide so that we'll be able to get down to the ground like, super, duper fast!?" Wendy nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders at the suggestion.

"Meh. As long as the employee break room has a coffee machine, I think I'll be pretty much good. Oh, and maybe add in better wifi because the reception here SUCKS!"

"…Yes." Stanford agreed a little hesitantly, wondering what on earth he'd just got himself into. "I think those all sound like excellent additions."

He spared another glance back to Stanley, who'd been oddly quiet throughout all of this, and was happy to note that his brother's mood had definitely improved. He still looked exhausted, they probably both did, but his smile was undoubtedly genuine now; as was the hope shining brightly in his eyes as he watched the rest of his family discuss what horrifying additions they were planning to add to the next incarnation of the Mystery Shack. After a minute or so of listening to the increasingly eccentric and dubiously feasible proceedings, Stanley finally noticed his twin's staring.

"What? Do I got something on my face?" Stanley teased, but even then he couldn't seem to stop grinning from ear to ear.

A small argument broke out in the background as Mabel and Dipper debated the practicality of using dinosaurs vs. unicorns as an opening attraction. Above them the sun was warm, the skies a cheery blue, and the forests around a deep, vibrant green sprawl. The air was saturated with such an overpowering scent of pine sap that it made the smell of burnt wood beneath nearly undetectable. Foliage occasionally rustled as some natural or supernatural creature darted between the towering trees. A crisp, piercing mountain breeze, the kind that marked the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, rushed through the small clearing, tangling its fingers in everyone's hair at it passed, and causing the pines around them to creak and sway.

The horrors of the nightmare realm, the crumbling mindscape, and even Weirdmageddon seemed little more than a bad dream, one would soon fade with the early morning sun.

The corners of Stanford's eyes crinkled as he said nothing, and returned Stanley's smile.

END

* * *

Honestly, this has been such an amazing experience for us both, the response to our story has been completely amazing. All the wonderful comments, all the amazing incredible. it's just incredible, we're blown away! It was such a great experience to write this, and we're glad to have shared it with you guys.


End file.
